Coming Back
by MPRose
Summary: Life after the battle is full of surprises. Unexpectedly returned friends bring relief. Trouble is never too far away, but our heroes always find ways to deal with it. Slightly AU, but will remain as close to canon as possible.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. **

**A/N: This is the first Harry Potter story I've written so far. It is obviously AU because people who died in the books are not dead in my story. But other than that, I want to keep it as close to the original as possible. Please tell me if I'm getting the characterizations ( or anything else) wrong.**

It was over.

Harry kept repeating that thought in his mind, willing himself to believe it, but it was proving difficult. Only slowly was he coming down from the adrenaline high of the battle, and he was not sure he preferred what would follow to the stress that was only slowly leaving his body.

There would be happiness, he had no doubt of that, but first would come the grieving.

While the others had started the first round of celebration, he was in a deserted part of the castle with Ron and Hermione, who had followed him at his request, first to Dumbledore's... no, to the headmaster's office, and afterwards, where he was leading them.

"Look, guys, if you wanted to return to the Great Hall..."

"No, Harry, that's fine." Ron sounded sombre.

Before, he and Hermione had looked a lot cheerier, but now, away from the company of the gathered survivors, both their moods seemed as dimmed as Harry's.

A knowing look passed between them.

"There was just too much noise there to reflect on everything that's happened." Hermione had a pained expression. "But we need to do this. No point putting it off."

They all looked down.

"I wanted to see..." Harry could not say it. He tried again. "I wanted to say goodbye in private. You know, before the others calm down and..."

"I know where they took them." Ron's voice was barely above a whisper. "We followed..." He could not bring himself to say Fred's name either.

"Let's go then," said Harry just as quietly.

They walked down to the dungeons in silence. Even though it was early morning, the corridors were dark in that part of the castle.

"It's down here. There were a few unused classrooms..." Even though he spoke softly, Ron's voice sounded unnecessarily loud, out of place somehow.

It was freezing cold in the room, even more so than in the rest of the dungeons. The bodies were lined next to each other, with barely any space between them to walk through. There were far too many.

Ron swallowed. "They're... Everyone had to take care of their own. They're all together over here." He went over to Fred's body, followed by his friends. Harry was not sure which was worse: seeing Fred dead or witnessing Ron's pain. Hermione comforted her boyfriend of one day, and Harry turned to the other two.

He knelt next to Remus, passing his gaze over his face. Harry still had the image of the scar-free Remus walking with him in his mind, making it even more difficult to look at the scarred face.

Remus' brows twitched all of a sudden. Harry gasped and stumbled back.

Both of his friends turned to him, concerned.

"Harry?"

"Are you all right?"

But before Harry could reply, Remus groaned and sat up. "Harry? What's going on? Where are we?"

Ron and Hermione shrieked and clutched at each other.

"Remus, now looking truly confused, tried once again. "Harry, what happened?"

Harry was frozen, unable to answer, so Ron spoke instead. "You're supposed to be dead. Why aren't you dead?" His voice steadily got more and more hysterical.

Harry started muttering to himself, "Merlin what did I do...?"

Remus, realizing that something was not right, tried to remember what had happened. "I was fighting Dolohov, and I could hear Dora fighting Bellatrix. And then I saw her fall and turned to look, and Dolohov... Merlin, Dora!" Panicked, his hand shot around, landing on his wife lying next to him. He touched her throat, then started to shake her. "Dora? Dora, wake up."

"She is dead, Remus," Harry spoke at last.

Remus looked at him, brows drawn together. "No, she is not. I can feel her pulse. Though, it seems very weak..."

Hermione, who seemed to have recovered somewhat, inched over to her, her hand extended in front of her, ready to draw it back at any moment. Hesitantly, she touched Tonks' throat. Then she turned back to her friends, looking somewhere between incredulous and horrified. "He's right. She's alive."

"But that can't be. I mean I didn't—" Harry broke off. It was too late, of course. He had his friends' undivided attention.

"Harry?"

"What do you mean?"

He tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry. Then he told them about the Resurrection Stone inside the snitch and his 'little walk' in the forest.

Hermione looked truly horrified now. "Harry, how could you? You know the stone should never be used—"

"I remember that..." Remus interrupted her, then cleared his throat to cover the awkwardness as he suddenly found all three teenagers staring at him with rapt attention. "Uh, I have to say, Harry, I have no idea what exactly you're talking about. But I remember... I thought it was a dream... Your parents, James and Lily were there, and Sirius... I thought I was dead. I mean, what with the company, and all. I remembered he-who-must-not-be—"

"Voldemort," interrupted Harry.

Remus drew in a sharp breath. "Harry! The name's jinxed. You shouldn't..." He trailed off, at the sight of the unconcerned and amused faces of the teenagers.

"Oh, right. You don't know—" started Hermione.

"Voldemort is dead!" Ron interrupted her, sounding like an overeager child.

"So, does that mean... Did we...?"

"We won. We're inside Hogwarts now." Something like hope was starting to fill Harry's voice. "You're really alive? You're the same Remus you used to be? I mean, you don't feel like going back to being... you know? But I still don't understand. Was it me? Did I...?"

"Harry, I don't think I really died. As I was saying, I remember Voldemort demanding you give yourself up. And then I was in the forest, with your parents. They told me you were about to do just that, and we were going to walk with you. James was saying how proud he was of you, and that he was happy to see me again."

Harry's eyes looked suspiciously bright now, and Remus considerately averted his eyes. His brows drew together, trying to remember the details. "It was really strange. Not quite like a dream. I remember feeling sad that you were about to... I could not understand why it didn't seem to bother your parents. And Lily said I didn't understand, that the living just could not understand, but she said that I shouldn't worry because everything would be all right. James then told me that I should be glad because you were going to save us."

"'The living'... She said you were 'the living'. You're really alive, then. For good." Harry sounded ridiculously relieved. He wanted to say how happy he felt, how fantastic it was to have Remus returned to him. After all the death and destruction they had witnessed that day it seemed like the greatest gift of all. He wanted to say all that, but all he could manage was a lame "Remus, I... I'm glad."

Remus seemed to have understood, though, because he stood up, walked over on shaky legs, and hugged him. It felt a little awkward, with both of them unused to human contact.

Remus went back to his wife after that. "Is she really alive?" Hermione asked him.

"She is. But she's not waking up." He sounded concerned.

Hermione bit her lip. "I was wondering... Harry's father said he was going to save us. Including you, right?"

Remus nodded.

Hermione then cast a spell that neither Harry nor Ron had seen before. Little glowing dots, like fireflies, appeared in front of all their faces, and on top of Tonks, Fred and another body some distance away.

Ron, looking bewildered, tried to move away from the already fading light dancing in front of him. "Hermione, what was that?"

"I cast a spell that shows who's alive," Hermione told him distractedly, already kneeling at Fred's side.

It only took them one moment to realise what she was saying, then they were rushing over to her side.

"You mean, he's—"Ron could not say it, holding his breath for her answer.

Hermione smiled at him, her eyes full of understanding. "Yes, Ron. He's also alive. Though, he doesn't seem to be waking up, either." Her brows drawn together, she looked around, her eyes stopping at the last fading light. "And someone else seems to be alive, as well. Though, I don't know who..."

"Colin Creevey," said Harry with conviction.

Hermione went over to confirm his words and then came back. "It is Colin Creevey. How did you know?"

Harry again had the undivided attention of everyone present. "Hermione, I think we both had the same idea just now. It must have something to do with me sacrificing myself. It's the only thing that protects against the Killing Curse. It's what happened when my mother died, and the same thing happened just now. People stopped dying once I—"

"That's what I thought, too. So it makes sense that people close to you didn't die. But why Creevey?"

"They were just dragging him in when I was leaving the castle. I knew about Fred, of course, and I saw Remus and Tonks before I went up to Dumbledore's office. Then, after I had seen the memories, I didn't want to see any more death. I mean, I was going to give myself up, I didn't want any more grief than that.

"I tried not to see what was going on; tried to avoid everyone. But I just ran into him. Neville was there, he told me he had snuck back in to fight. He looked so small..." He broke off.

"Oh, Harry..." Hermione hugged him. Ron patted him on the shoulder, looking sympathetic.

"Harry, how wonderfully brave you have been—" Remus' gaze was so full of regard and affection that Harry had to sink his eyes before it.

"Remus, really, that's... I mean..." Harry stuttered embarrassed.

"So what about Fred?" asked Ron. "And the others," he added as an afterthought. Harry was happy to have something to take the attention away from him.

Hermione worried her lower lip, before coming to a decision. "I think maybe we should ask Madam Pomfrey."


	2. Chapter 2

It was agreed that this was the sort of explosive news that needed to be treated very carefully. They were not sure if the public could be trusted with it. For, who knew how some people would react to knowing that Harry had managed to save people close to him while their loved ones had died.

Having decided to keep it quiet for the time being, the teenagers snuck up to the Hogwarts nurse and asked her to come with them, without letting anyone else suspect what was going on. Ron, especially, had ants in his pants, barely holding himself back from telling his family.

Madam Pomfrey, meanwhile, could hardly believe what they were telling her. Even with all their explanations she suffered a little shock at seeing Remus, alive and well. The usually strict matron got quite teary-eyed from the sudden reappearance of her old student whom she had thought forever gone. Once she had calmed down, she started examining the unexpected survivors. Forcing Remus to lie down as well, she walked around her four patients, muttering under her breath and casting charms.

Finally, she was done and faced her anxiously waiting audience. Her answer was reassuring. Remus was almost completely all right. The other three were all in a sort of coma, their magical cores exhausted. But Madam Pomfrey reassured them that the cores would slowly regenerate, and they would awaken in no more than a few weeks. She was a little worried about Colin, whose magical core seemed to be unstable.

She then called house elves to help her relocate her new patients to the Hospital Wing, in a separate room for quarantined patients, away from prying eyes. Remus went with his wife.

Once they were gone, Ron turned to his friends. "Now we can tell my family." He sounded so happy, he could barely contain himself.

"But we need to be discreet," Hermione gave a final warning before they set off towards the Great Hall.

The Weasleys were all sitting together. Ron and Hermione went over, Harry staying behind to avoid too much attention.

After some negotiating, the whole family moved over to the corridor where Harry was waiting. Mrs Weasley was still silently crying, and Mr Weasley, whose eyes were a telling red, could be heard defending her. "Ron, what is it? Couldn't it have waited a little? We're all still..." He could not find a fitting word to describe their state.

Mrs Weasley, though, hurried over to Harry as soon as she saw him. "There you are, dear. I was worried there was something wrong with you." She sent Ron and Hermione a reprimanding look. "They were so insistent we had to come that I got worried."

"I'm fine, Mrs Weasley. But we really need to tell you something."

"Harry, what is it?" Ginny sounded worried. For him, for Harry. He felt a surge of his old feelings for her. Now, with his friends restored to life the worst of his grief seemed dulled and he almost felt ready to pick up where they had left off. But those thoughts would have to wait for the moment.

The Weasleys followed the trio through deserted corridors leading to the Hospital Wing. Once they had privacy, Harry started to talk: "Well, I better ask this to get it over with. Who knows about Fred?"

Everyone's mood worsened at his question. Harry felt instantly guilty. It needed to be asked now, before more emotional matters made it impossible to discuss this, but he could not help but feel that he could have been more tactful about it.

Mrs Weasley answered this with a new bout of sobs. Mr Weasley looked hurt, but then he said: "You wouldn't have asked it if it weren't important, I guess. We told Minerva, of course, and Kingsley. He asked about Tonks."

George, who had until now been, contrary to his usual character, completely quiet and in the background, now said: "I also told Lee and Angelina."

Four people, all of which Harry knew. They might still be able to keep this quiet. The trio looked at each other, a tentative relief passing between them.

Now Hermione started the explanations: "You remember how Harry left to give himself up? How the Death Eaters could no longer kill any of us after that? Well, we think Harry protected us the same way his mother protected him."

"Yes, I remember you saying that during the battle," interrupted Ginny, her eyes on Harry.

"Yes, exactly," Hermione went on. "Giving your life to save others is a powerful counter-charm, probably the most powerful there is. It protected us from deadly curses. And it saved some people from dying, too," she ended tentatively. Unsure how to proceed, she looked at the boys for help.

Harry decided there was no way around it. He had to be blunt. "Some people we thought dead aren't dead after all."

His comment caused a commotion. There were several gasps and shouts. George turned as white as a sheet.

"Fred!" This came from his mother, who seemed about to move, but her husband held her back.

For once, the gentle Mr Weasley looked angry and bitter. "This is not the kind of comment you can make to a grieving family, Harry. You could have expected the way we were going to take it. With our boy -" He could not go on, tears choked his voice.

Harry was pained, seeing him like this. "No, Mr Weasley, it's true. Fred's really alive."

For a moment everyone froze at this. Then the whole family seemed to come to life at once.

Ron had to stop George mid-run, their mother not far behind. "No, George. Wait a second. We still need to explain some things." With his whole family now hanging at his every word, Ron went on. "We decided to keep this quiet for now. As quiet as possible. The fewer people know the better. We don't know how the public might take it..." He broke off.

Hermione took over from there, telling them who else had survived and trying to explain their fears about these news getting out.

Finally, they all seemed to understand the problems it might bring for Harry.

"Of course, Harry. We will keep this to ourselves," said Mr Weasley, looking a bit guilty about his earlier reaction.

"There's something else you should know," warned Harry. "Fred's in a coma."

"You mean he's not -"

Seeing the shocked faces in front of him, Harry immediately backtracked. "Oh, he's going to be all right. Madam Pomfrey said so. But he won't wake up for a few weeks or so."

Now everyone was in a hurry to see him, to see for themselves how he was. They barely made it quietly through the main hospital room, filled with the worst wounded, now all asleep.

George was the first at Fred's bedside, colour slowly coming back to his face as they all listened to the reassuring words of Madam Pomfrey.

Soon the news that Fred was alive had gotten through to all of them, bringing with it a new calm, and it was not long before Harry was once again the centre of attention.

The embarrassed boy-who-lived did not know how he deserved the overwhelming gratitude of Fred's family. It was not as if he had gone out of his way to save him, or as if he had gone to die especially for his sake. Colin Creevey had been saved in the same way as Fred, after all. If anything, the whole thing seemed almost random.

The Weasleys would not hear any of this, of course, and Harry had to resign himself to receiving a lot more thanks and a hug from Mrs Weasley.

He could see Remus, who was sitting next to Tonks' bed, smile at him mischievously, clearly enjoying Harry's embarrassed rambling. The way his cheeks were burning, he was sure he was as red as a tomato, too.

Catching Harry's eyes, his old professor then stood up and came over. The Weasleys, happy to see him alive as well, finally laid off Harry.

When they had seen Fred to their heart's content, and Madam Pomfrey was about ready to kick them out, they finally decided to deal with spreading the news.

It was agreed that the appearance of one of the trio would attract too much attention. It fell to Arthur Weasley to inform Shacklebolt and McGonagall, and George finally wrenched himself away from Fred's bedside to go and talk to his friends.

Of course, they all had to come and see for themselves, filling up the already small room and driving the school matron mad.

It was surprising how fast rumours could travel. Everyone had talked to someone, if only in passing. In the end, though, only the acting minister and headmistress, and Lee and Angelina had actually seen the Lupins' and Fred's bodies.

They decided to use the disorder among the survivors to their advantage and spread a new version of the events. With the chaotic way rumours were spread at the moment, they hoped no one would notice anything was amiss. According to the newest rumour, Fred and Tonks had been badly wounded, and had to heal now, undisturbed.

For once, it turned out to be fortunate that not many people associated with Remus. No one but those who already knew, had asked about him.

The only problem was Colin Creevey. A lot of people had seen him die, had carried his body, and would never believe rumours to the contrary. For now, only his brother, Dennis, had been told, who had promised to keep it secret for the time being. He sat by his brother's bed, too happy about having him back to disagree with anything.

Harry wanted to talk to Remus, ask him everything he had thought he would never get the chance to ask again. He was the last Marauder, the last connection to Harry's past. He was so much more, really, but Harry could not put it all in words. Of course, standing in front of the man now, he had no idea what to actually say. "Er, Remus, would you like to go for a walk?"

His old professor looked at him shrewdly, and then nodded. "Let's go."

The Weasleys were still very much in their own world, but Hermione noticed that they were about to leave.

"We'll just be out by the lake," Harry reassured her.

Noticing Hermione's absence, Ron came over, as well. "Take care, mate," he told Harry.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yes, I admit, a lot of people who die in DH don't die in my story. But I didn't randomly pick them, they all come back because of the same reason.**

**Except for Sirius. There I shamelessly indulged myself. But then, he is one of my favourite characters. So deal with it.**

**Tiki O'Toole: No, Bellatrix and Voldemort won't be coming back. Why would Harry's sacrifice bring back his enemies?**

They walked through the Great Hall, where most people were still assembled. Remus was concerned at first how people would take it that he was alive. But no one even seemed to pay him any attention.

Only one student walked up to him, a boy he had taught a few years ago, who remembered him fondly. "Professor Lupin, it's good to see you. There were rumours you had died."

"No, I'm quite well. Thank you," he smiled. And that was that.

A few aurors were leaving with the Death Eaters they had caught. Remus and Harry followed right behind them.

In the Chamber of Reception the bodies of their dead enemies had been laid together. Harry averted his eyes, wanting to get past as soon as possible.

"Bella! BELLA!" Harry recognized Rodolphus Lestrange, the man whose shouting had suddenly disrupted the strict order of the group of people in front of them, and was now pulling at his restraints, towards the entrance of the room.

"What, you hadn't heard?" asked one of his guards. "Molly Weasley killed her right before Potter killed Voldemort."

"No! You're lying! You're a filthy liar! That blood traitor could never – BELLA! Wake up!"

"Maybe we should let him say goodbye." That was another of the aurors. "He won't get another chance now that he's going back to Azkaban."

"What's the point? He won't be grieving long there. He'll be crazy by next month."

"He managed to stay sane before."

"I guess... Used to listen to her cackle." He pointed towards Bellatrix' body. "They used to shout obscenities at each other whenever it got bad. Crazy, I know, but it seemed to keep them sane..." He paused, and then relented. "Oh, all right. Why not."

Harry was already past them, but he still heard Rodolphus rush inside the chamber as soon as his restraints were off, and then he heard a strange, muffled sound that might have been crying.

They finally left the castle behind them, and were now leisurely walking over to the lake. Harry was telling Remus in great detail everything that had happened since Dolohov had more or less killed him. He wanted to say more, Remus' brush with death making him painfully aware how easily that opportunity could be lost, but he still did not know how to begin.

Harry glimpsed a shadow of a black shape moving towards him all of a sudden. A moment later, a man was standing in front of him, a tall, haggard man with a panicked expression, who had no place being there.

"Harry?" The audacity to sound surprised, when his appearance alone had rendered Harry speechless from astonishment, was proof that he really was who he seemed.

"Sirius," harry tried to say, but his voice broke midway and it came out as more of a whisper.

"It can't be." Remus beside him sounded equally shaken.

"Harry, what happened to you?" The man looked around, baffled by what he was seeing. "Or to Hogwarts. It was just a few Death Eaters, and we had them well under control. We were gaining the upper hand! How did all this happen?"

Harry, after the earlier events, was more open to strange possibilities. He was almost willing to believe that Sirius was really standing in front of him. But having come across metamorphmagi, and Polyjuice potion, he still needed to be convinced.

"Prove that you're really Sirius. Tell me something only you would know." He frowned. "No, first urn into Padfoot." Harry was pretty sure that was something neither a metamorphmagus nor Polyjuice could reproduce.

"What? You want me to prove that I'm Sirius? You really think out of the two of us I might be the impostor? Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Harry tried not to imagine what a sight he must be now, after months on the run, and a war behind him.

"First, I'm rushing to the Ministry, because I'm told you're battling Death Eaters there," Sirius went on. "Then Bellatrix the Bitch stuns me, and when I wake up everyone is gone. There is utter chaos at the Ministry. People are fighting, the Ministry workers are fighting against each other. I'm looking for you, but you're not there!"

At these words something happened to Harry. All his doubts seemed to fade away, and he knew suddenly, knew from the depths of his being that the man in front of him was Sirius, his Godfather, whom he had believed dead for two years.

Harry was not sure what did it, whether it was Sirius' confusion that seemed a little too convincing to be an act, or whether he felt his story was actually adding up, but without thinking too much about the hows or whys he slowly moved towards Sirius, who continued to talk: "None of you are there. I've no idea where you could be. I come to your school. Not that I think you'll be here, but I don't know where else to look..."

Sirius stopped because Harry had moved into his arms and was hugging him fiercely, his face pressed against Sirius' shoulder, muttering in a choked voice. Sirius heard a repeated "I'm sorry, so sorry," and "You're alive, you're really alive."

He automatically put his arms around Harry's shoulder for a moment, then tried to get Harry to look at him. "Harry, it's all right. I'm all right. I didn't mean that to be an accusation. You should know by now, I tend to say things like that when I'm... Anyway, you did admirably, getting to London, into the Ministry, holding off Death Eaters..."

"I was such an idiot... It was a trap and I -"

"Yes, well, I wish we'd told you earlier about the prophesy. If you'd known, you'd have suspected a trap right away. And I'm not sure why you'd risk your life to come and save me, but I can't say I'm not flattered."

"Well, of course I had to. Even when I thought it might be a trap. What if it wasn't? I couldn't risk it. You. And then -" Harry's voice choked off at that. He pressed his face hard against Sirius' shoulder as he tried to suppress the tremors that went through his body.

Sirius was getting more and more confused. He finally managed to get Harry to loosen his grip and put a little distance between them to look Harry in the face. "Harry, could you please tell me what is going on? Hogwarts looks like it's been in the middle of a war, and you, you look... old..."

"Old?" There was something scratching at Harry's throat, but he choked it off. He was not sure if it had been a laugh or a sob.

"You would look a little older to him, I guess. He hasn't seen you in two years," Remus, who had come to stand beside Harry, said in an eerily calm tone, that for some reason set them both off, and a second later they were laughing uncontrollably, bewildering Sirius even more.

"All right, enough now! Stop it, stop, you're freaking me out. And what do you mean, I haven't seen him in two years?"

They finally sobered at the question, and looked at each other uncertainly. This was not going to be easy to explain.

"Come on, Sirius. This might take a while. Let's sit by the lake." With that, Remus took charge of the situation and led the other two to a tree close to the water's edge. He then conjured blankets to lay on the still moist grass and they all sat down.


	4. Chapter 4

"During the fight at the Ministry, when we were in the Death Chamber, do you remember the Veil?" began Harry.

"The Veil? Oh, yeah, I remember seeing that creepy thing. It's supposed to kill you as soon as you pass through it, isn't it? At least, that's the theory. It's not like anyone's come back to tell otherwise." Sirius looked at them uncertainly.

"Actually, you did, Padfoot," Remus told him hesitantly."You fell through that Veil when Bellatrix stunned you. That was almost two years ago…"

Dread started to creep up on Sirius at these words. His eyes looked haunted, his gaze switching between the two people in front of him, begging them to tell him he had misheard, or misunderstood something.

Harry felt an overwhelming urge to tell Sirius that everything was all right, to welcome him back, to leave out all the questions, so that both could be happy to be reunited. But he knew neither of them would know any peace of mind unless they had some answers. "Sirius, do you remember anything after Bellatrix stunned you? Anything at all?"

Sirius focused on him, on the clear task of answering a question. His brows drew together as he tried to remember. "I'm not sure. The first clear memory I have is standing in front of that blasted Veil, alone. First I thought no time had passed at all, but at the same time I felt like I'd been stunned for ages. A bit like waking up from a deep sleep, really." His eyes widened, surprised. "I think I even had a dream. Remus was in it, and James." His voice broke a little at the last name. "Lily, too."

His best friend and Godson exchanged a telling look at that, while he was left in the dark as to why. "What? It was just a dream—"

"Can you tell us what happened exactly? It's very important." Judging from Remus' tone of voice he had no doubt it was.

"I felt this… pull suddenly, a bit like a Portkey. Only, I wasn't dragged away by something I was attached to. I was pulled towards something. Harry, I think. I had a feeling of being released, as if I'd been sinking before and couldn't get away, but didn't notice it.

"And then, you were here, and _they_ were also here. James and Lily. James told me you were about to let Voldemort kill you."

Sirius frowned. "Absurd, all of it. I don't see why you want to hear this."

He was met with silence and tense interest.

"All right, then. So I was in a forest with you guys, waiting for Harry to get himself killed. You know, the way you can't seem to get out of a nightmare: It just keeps happening, and you keep playing your part and a part of you knows you should mind, but you can't really tell why until you wake up – It was like that.

"I remember, when James told me, I asked him if it hurt to die. Strange," he laughed, looking at Harry. "You asked me the same thing only a minute later, and –"

"And you said it was easier than falling asleep."

Sirius' face contorted at that. Then an unnatural calm seemed to come over him. "That really happened? So we're all dead, aren't we?"

"Er, no, we aren't." Harry grimaced and looked over to Remus for help.

"Well," laughed Remus. "We should be, really. We're still trying to figure out why we're alive."

Harry scrunched up his face in thought. "What about you?" he asked Remus. "Did you feel a pull as well?"

Remus considered this. "Now that you mention it… I guess I might have. What are you thinking?"

"The reason the other three are in a coma and you're not – I think it's because I called you with the Resurrection Stone. Maybe that's what freed Sirius from the Veil as well."

The Marauders exchanged a bewildered look at this. "What exactly is the Resurrection Stone?" asked Sirius. "What, you mean like the one in the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

"Yes. That one. Well, you see, the three objects from the story – they're actually real. They –"

"Wait, wait. Come on, Harry. You're not really telling me that that children's tale is real. I mean, come on! Death giving out presents -"

"Well, no. Not like that. The Peverell brothers are supposed to have invented them. At least, that was Dumbledore's theory. But even Xenophilius Lovegood -"

"Dumbledore believed in them?" Remus sounded shocked.

"He used to search for them in his youth, together with Grindelwald. Skeeter might have written a bunch of lies, but she did come across a few things that were true. They were friends, their wish to find the Deathly Hallows brought them together."

"Dumbledore and Grindelwald... They were looking for the Deathly Hallows? Of course, nothing short of impossible would have seemed good enough. Did they find any?"

"Back then – just the Elder Wand. Grindelwald had it, but Dumbledore won it from him in their duel and kept it since."

"There were rumours..." Sirius scowled. "Some of the... more colourful guests my family used to have – I remember a few of them speculating that Grindelwald used to have the Deathstick -"

"Isn't that one of those Pureblood myths?" chimed in Remus. "A wand that makes its owner unbeatable -"

"Well, not unbeatable. Dumbledore managed to win against Grindelwald, after all. But it is very powerful. The most powerful wand there is, for sure. It repaired my broken wand, and that's supposed to be impossible -"

Both Marauders were now staring at him. "It repaired -"

"Do you have it?" Sirius sounded nothing short of amazed.

"Er, yeah." He pulled it out of his sleeve. "Actually, I still haven't decided how best to get rid of it."

Sirius extended his hand to touch it, but Remus slapped it away. "Harry, you really have to tell us properly about it."

Harry considered that for a moment. "Okay, but it might take a while."

At their nods, he started to tell them about everything that had happened since Sirius fell through the Veil. He told them about his lessons with Dumbledore, about Riddle and his Horcruxes.

At that point Sirius looked rather sick. Being from one of the darkest Pureblood families in Britain meant that he had heard bits and pieces about them – enough to know to stay away from them as much as possible.

Harry then told them about his Invisibility Cloak and Marvolo Gaunt's ring with the Resurrection Stone. It was harder to explain how Dumbledore got the curse on his arm and how he had planned his death by Snape's hand.

At this, both marauders were stunned. Sirius – at hearing that Dumbledore had died, and Remus – at being told that Snape had been on their side after all.

Harry then got a little sidetracked telling about the mission Dumbledore had left him with, about the Horcrux hunt he and his friends had been on the past year. Looking rather horrified, his two listeners insisted on all details, and it took a while before he reached the part about Voldemort finding out about the Elder Wand and searching for it.

He finally reached the part about Snape's memories, but was not sure how much to tell. He did not want to destroy the man's privacy, but needed to explain why he knew for sure now that Snape was on their side. Remus helped out, told him that they remembered Snape's friendship with Lily.

Harry went on, wanting to have it over with, but his two listeners went crazy as soon as he mentioned that he had been the seventh Horcrux. He had to calm them down, remind them that he was, in fact, not dead, but sat right in front of them.

When he had finally finished his tale, they all sat in silence, trying to come to grips with everything that had happened.

"So it was real then, James and Lily?" Sirius broke the silence.

"I think so. I mean, you two remember being there. If you were real, then so were they."

Sirius then turned to Remus. "I get why I was there. Harry thought I had died. But what about you? Why were you there?"

They then had to explain to him about the four other people they had thought dead. Sirius looked somewhere between awed and horrified until Harry accidentally referred to Tonks as Remus' wife. That instantly cheered up his dog of a Godfather. "Why, Moony, you old wolf -"

Remus groaned. "Now, Sirius -"

"I knew it. I told you I knew it. But, of course, you had to be difficult. So, how long have you been married?"

"About a year now. We have a son. His name's Ted – Teddy -"

"Congratulations!" Sirius hugged his oldest friend. "I'm so happy for you."

"I'm so happy Teddy won't grow up an orphan now," said Harry simultaneously.

Remus, remembering their past conversation about his son, nodded to him. "All thanks to you."

"Uh, Remus, I really -"

"And I don't just mean... What you told me before – You were right. I was being an idiot. I never got to properly thank you for talking some sense into me."

Sirius, curious and a little left out from the conversation, asked what that was all about, and Remus told him, haltingly, of his doubts about marrying, and having children. Sirius obviously knew Remus well enough not to be surprised by that. He was understanding and reassuring, but at the same time, Harry was aware that both men were more reserved with their reactions than they would have been had he not been there. Harry suddenly felt like he was intruding by listening to their conversation.


	5. Chapter 5

He looked around, towards the castle, and saw Ginny, who, herself, was scanning the Hogwarts grounds, apparently searching for something. Or someone.

Harry excused himself and went over to her.

"Harry, there you are!" She waved to him as soon as she spotted him. "Hermione said you were out with Lupin and I just wanted to see…" She trailed off, smiling a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, we took off a bit suddenly…" There was much to say between them, but now that she was standing in front of him, he seemed unsure where to begin.

"You wanted to talk to him?" she asked with the slightest emphasis on 'him'.

Harry felt instantly guilty for not having talked to her first, for telling Remus about his secret mission before telling her. "I just… Because of Tonks – he needed to know what was going on." He grimaced, only now thinking that Ginny would have the same questions because of Fred. "Sorry, Gin. I should have told you—"

"No, no. That's all right. I didn't mean… Ron and Hermione explained a few things."

"Ah." Harry was feeling worse and worse.

"But you'll tell me later, won't you? About your mission?"

"Yes, of course. Everything." Harry was relieved that Ginny had taken this so well, but he still felt he should explain. "It's not that I don't want to tell you, or that I wanted to tell him first. It's just, I thought he was dead—"

"I know, Harry. I know. When Fred… When I thought Fred was gone, all I could think about was all the things I'd never told him, all the things I wanted him to know. I tried to remember what we'd talked about the last time, and it all seemed so stupid—" She broke off. Her head was bowed, and her voice had sounded more and more off the more she talked.

Harry drew her in his arms rather impulsively. They embraced for a long moment, and kissed as they pulled away. There was a smile back on Ginny's face, and Harry grinned at her.

Holding hands, they moved slowly back to the castle.

"It was a wild year, wasn't it?" Ginny exhaled as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"you could say that. You must tell me about your year, too. I've only heard bits and pieces, about the resistance, and about how you tried to steal the sword—"

"Oh, that, yeah. That's nothing to what you had to do, I'm sure. There were rumours, about something or other in the ministry, and a break-in into Gringotts—"

Harry saw Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall at the entrance, and thought of something. He interrupted Ginny. "I'll tell you all about it, I promise. But first, I need to take care of another thing."

He went over to the temporary minister, Ginny following right behind him. He told them about Sirius, and tried to explain how it had happened.

Harry was worried how to explain to people why Sirius had returned, and how he was involved in it. But Kingsley assembled all the old Order members who knew about Sirius, and also Luna and Neville, and told them the bare facts: namely, that the Veil had spewed Sirius back out. He left out all the speculation as to why, as no one knew for sure what the Veil was, anyway.

After that, he announced in the Great Hall that Sirius was innocent. Most people did not know that the feared Azkaban escapee had been thought dead. On the other hand, Pettigrew had been seen by quite a few people, including prisoners at Malfoy Manor, and rumours had spread. Because of this, the news was better received than expected.

They had breakfast right after that. It was almost noon, but even Hogwarts house elves had their limit. It took them some time to prepare a meal after the battle, especially for so many people.

It was a very simple breakfast Harry sat down to with the Weasleys and Hermione, but as soon as he saw food, he realized how hungry he was. With all his other worries it had slipped his mind until then.

Luna and Neville came over, hoping to hear more, and after making sure he would not be overheard, he told them all what he really thought had happened with Sirius.

They were almost finished with breakfast, and Harry was starting to get sleepy, when Andromeda Tonks arrived, bringing Teddy with her. She came over to Harry's table, looking agitated. "Molly, there you are. I was told Nymphadora was hurt, and I came as soon as I could. But now I can't find he, or anyone else from the Order. Do you know where she is?

"I've been hearing the most impossible rumours. Some people were saying she might have died – Oh, but then I also heard Sirius is supposed to be here, so I guess there's not much to it." She gave a nervous laugh, and then grimaced. "Is there?"

Harry really did not feel like explaining again, and luckily, he saw Remus and Padfoot the dog enter the hall. They must have heard food was being served, thought Harry. It seemed Sirius had had enough sense not to show his face. Or at least Remus had.

Harry took Andromeda over to them and told them about Shacklebolt's earlier announcement. He left Remus to explain everything to his mother-in law.

Sitting back down at the table, Ron told him: "You'd rather have more breakfast than talk – excellent choice."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him playfully, then turned to Harry herself: "You're happy now, aren't you?"

"I am. I shouldn't be, right after the war, when so many people are grieving."

"Well, that can't be helped," said Ron. "You did all that was required of you. More than that. Relax a little."

"He is right," Hermione joined in. "You too care of everything you were responsible for."

They all thought about it for a moment. Then the realization dawned on them. Remembering one more thing they had to take care of, they said together: "Snape!"

Though Harry himself had been oblivious to it, the two Marauders noticed immediately when he left them by the lake. They fell silent.

"He's so grown-up." Sirius was staring at Harry's retreating back, as he walked over to Ginny.

"Yes, he is." Remus sounded a little wary, dreading the talking to that might follow now that Harry had left. He kept stealing glances at Sirius, but immediately looked away when his friend turned back to him.

Sirius looked over to Harry. "I missed it again. Him growing up. I didn't see him grow up as a child, and I missed him turn into an adult."

Remus looked down. "We all missed that. This last year... Well, you heard him."

Sirius drew his hand over his eyes. "Yeah. Quite the tale he told us, huh?"

"You could say that."

"Turned out all right, didn't he?" They both laughed at that. "He is quite something, he is."

Remus smiled wistfully. "Yes."

"Well, can't say he missed much by not being around me. Probably better this way. I might have corrupted him."

Remus was pained, hearing his friend's self-deprecation. "Sirius, don't-"

"Moony, are you seeing that?" Sirius had jumped up suddenly, and was now staring at Harry, who was snogging Ginny.

"Oh, right," laughed Remus. "You wouldn't know about it. They became a couple last year. I thought there might have been some trouble when he left, but it seems they're still together."

They watched the teenagers break apart and move back to the castle.

"What is it with Potters and redheads, anyway?"

Remus laughed. "Beats me."

Sirius' face darkened. "There's so many things I don't know about him."

"But he is willing to tell you. He recounted all of his adventures to you, and trust me when I say, that's not how he acts around other people. Not even people close to him, like me. Most of the things he told were new to me, too."

"None of it was personal, though, was it?"

"Except for when he lunged at you and sobbed on your shoulder."

"He did not sob. He apologised. He's so much more guarded than he used to be. Not that he was all that open back then. The only constant is his blaming himself for everything that goes wrong. He must have felt really guilty about the battle at the Ministry to react like that."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but it's still a little strange, having you back. He hasn't confided in you in two years."

"Or maybe he doesn't need anyone to confide in any more. At least, not in me. He was always closer to his friends than anyone else, but once in a while, he'd want to go to an adult. Now..." He looked down, lost in his own thoughts.

"Sirius..." Remus started to say, though he could not think of anything helpful right away.

"Now, he's giving out advice in return." Sirius snapped out of his thoughts and turned his full attention back to Remus. "And pretty good advice, too, if I got that last part right."

Remus' heart sank. He had hoped Sirius had forgotten about his less-than-stellar behaviour towards his family while they had been talking about Harry.

Remus rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious discomfort, then looked at him appraisingly, with only the slightest hint of mocking. "Relax, Moony. I'm not going to give you a tongue-lashing. I rather think Harry already did that."

"He did."

"And, anyway, I haven't been around long enough for that yet. It's quite disturbing, you know, finding out you missed out on two years and the world has moved on without you. Can't say I'm unused to that feeling, though. What with my stay in Azkaban-"

"Yes. It must be quite-" Remus tried the sympathy card.

But Sirius would not be deterred. "So I'm only going to say one thing. Your problem is that people are way too understanding with you."

"What? How can you say-"

"Oh, I don't mean some random jerks. I mean your friends, people close to you. Everyone always understands that you pull this sort of shit because you have no sense of self-worth to speak of. You always do it for them, for us. For our benefit. So that we won't get hurt. And it's because we're always so understanding that you never seem to grasp that you hurt people more by doing that."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Yes, you do know. You always know once it's over and done with. You knew you should've trusted us after we found out about your furry little problem. And you knew Harry might have benefited from knowing someone who was close to his parents, after you found about the way the Dursleys treated him."

"I don't believe you're bringing that up. Don't you think, if I had known, if I had even suspected-"

"I know, I know. But you never asked. You just assumed that no matter what, he'd be better off without having any contact with you."

"What, you think I should've introduced myself? Probably should have told him I'm a werewolf, too, huh? At least that would've explained why I look like a tramp. And then what? Should I have told him I still expected us to be friends, because if his parents were so generous to look past my issues, so should he-"

"See, that's exactly what I mean-"

"No, you've no idea what you mean. Or how hurtful the things are you say. You just never learned not to say the first thing that comes to your mind. As always, you act before you think, no matter the consequences-"

"I always manage to deal with the consequences."

"Do you, now?"

"Well, yeah. No matter what trouble I get in, I always manage to get out."

"Like you did with Pettigrew. And that little stunt you pulled, rushing to the ministry while the whole auror department was looking for you-"

"Well, I got out of Azkaban. And now I got out of death, didn't I?"

Remus groaned. "You're going to be insufferable about that, aren't you?"

Sirius laughed, a loud boisterous laugh that sounded oddly like barking.

For a moment, the silence between them was filled with the warm promise of renewed friendship, of old friendship, tested and enduring, that was almost lost more than once, yet still lived on. They had gotten an unexpected new chance, and this time they would hold on to it with all their might.

Remus felt a bittersweet ache deep in his heart, thinking of all the pain and darkness that lay between them and those four boys, friends, they had been all those years ago.

He knew that it needed to be said, to be acknowledged by them, no matter how it might dim their mood to talk about him. "Pettigrew is dead."

Sirius shot him a surprised look. Then his face closed up. "That was way past due."

"Yes, of course."

Then a look passed between them, an understanding of what they would not acknowledge in words. Although they would not grieve for the man that he had become, there was a part of them that could not help but grieve for the boy they had once called friend.

Not long after that, Sirius transformed into his animagus form and they went back to the castle.

Harry intercepted them as soon as they entered the Great Hall, accompanied by Andromeda Tonks and Teddy. He had barely told them a few disjointed pieces of information that he left them standing there and went back to his seat.

"Don't transform," warned Remus, as soon as Harry had left. "I don't know what Kingsley has told these people, and how much they believed him. Better keep out of people's notice."

Sirius, who had indeed been about to turn back, gave a whine of disappointment, but remained a dog. Remus led both Black cousins to a quiet corner away from the tables where everyone else had gathered together to eat. The prospect of food was tempting – especially for Padfoot, who gave a hopeful bark towards the tables before following Remus – but sharing news was more important.

Remus took his still sleeping son from his mother-in-law and then told her about Tonks and Sirius.

Andromeda, in her turn, had some news as well. "You'll be happy to know, Sirius, that Bellatrix was killed. I saw her body in the Chamber of Reception."

Padfoot hung his ears and whined, his emotions as a dog being so much less conflicted.

Andromeda's patrician features, so similar to her sister's, lost some of their impassivity and shifted to a softer expression. She sighed, looking at Padfoot. "I know. She was our enemy, who hated everything we believe in, everything we love. She wanted to kill my Nymphadora, and yet..."

"We had the same reaction to Pettigrew, only a few minutes ago, " Remus told her. "But it's no use, really. It was Bellatrix who cast the Killing Curse on Dora. Whatever she used to be to you before..."

Andromeda seemed to understand the unfinished thought. At least she nodded, to show that she was ready to leave it be.

They were about to go to the Hospital Wing, to see Nymphadora, when they saw the Golden Trio rush past them, out of the Great Hall, and towards the main entrance.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: In the last chapter, the sentence '**Remus rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious discomfort, then looked at him appraisingly, with only the slightest hint of mocking.' **was of course supposed to read '**Sirius rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious discomfort...'.

Pain. Darkness creeping in. Then the realization that this was it, that this would be the end. Then, for a long time, nothing. The barest hint of... something – not-quite-awareness of being neither here nor there – for he knew not how long, slowly followed by self-awareness. The pain came with it right away, sharp and decidedly physical, dissolving the blurriness around his consciousness, and leaving only confusion. He opened his eyes.

The sky was beautiful, cloudless, speckled with stars. For a long moment that was all he could take in, revelling in the sight he thought he would never see again. But something was not right. He could hear very peculiar noises surrounding him. He tried to look around, but the pain in his neck quickly discouraged him of that idea. Very carefully, he sat up.

He was in the Great Hall, which was filled with rows of sleeping bags, lined up head-to-head and feet-to-feet. There were sleeping people lined up to his left and to his right, at his head and at his feet. None of it made sense. He was supposed to be dead, wasn't he?

"Hello, professor. You're awake. Are you all right? Are you in pain?" Harry Potter, only a few sleeping bags away, was talking to him.

"Am I in Hell?" It was the only thing that would have made sense to him right now. It hurt to speak and his voice came out as a croak.

Potter's face fell at his question. The wariness and uncertainty, as well as a rather disturbing helpfulness disappeared from his face, to be replaced by a scowl. "Er, not exactly, no. You are at Hogwarts."

"I... I died..."

"We thought so, too, but you survived. Fawkes saved you."

Snape stared at him, uncomprehending. He tried to speak, but instead he coughed, which hurt even more than his attempts at speech.

Harry, thankfully taking the hint, explained without prompting: "We left you in the Shrieking Shack. We thought you were dead. We came the next day, to retrieve your body." The last part was mumbled quickly. "But Fawkes was there, with you. And when we checked, we found you alive. We brought you here, and Madam Pomfrey flicked you back together."

Snape's hand shot to his throat at this, finding it heavily bandaged.

"The hospital wing is full, that's why you are here."

"The hospital... So you told them..." Snape swallowed, which caused him to cough again. The realization that his most loathed pupil knew so many of his secrets slowly dawned on him. "What did you tell them?" His voice was a menacing whisper.

"That you were on our side. That Dumbledore ordered you to kill him. It took a while to convince them, I can tell you that."

Harry remembered how many people he had been forced to explain it to. He did not know what exactly he had expected Snape's reaction to be, but he had to admit he was rather underwhelmed by the open hostility. And to think that he had gone to Shacklebolt, for the third time that day, no less, to ask him to clear Snape's name.

Strange. He had been convinced he would not use his new popularity to ask for things. And yet, he had been forced to talk to Shacklebolt about Remus and the others, and then Sirius. Now Snape. And he had not even brought up the Malfoys yet. In no time, Shacklebolt was going to start running in the opposite direction whenever he saw Harry, the Chosen One thought gloomily.

Snape's first reaction had been one of surprise, but as soon as he had asked it, he knew that discussing his secrets (which were the only proof he could think of that he was not on Voldemort's side) with Harry Potter was the last thing he wanted. He could not think of anything more dreadful. He was even willing to remain as neutral as possible, reasonably polite even, to make sure Potter had no reason to taunt him with his new knowledge.

"How exactly did you convince them?" Snape's face was averted when he asked that, and his voice was a whisper, which was only partly due to the damage to his vocal chords. He tried to make it sound flat, but he could not quite cover up the intensity. The very idea that people might know... And yet, he had thought Potter knowing would be the worst. But here he was, talking to the brat himself, who did know, and he had yet to implode of humiliation.

Harry was perceptive enough to realize how much Snape hated to talk about this. To his horror, he had to admit that seeing Snape's memories had led him to an understanding of the man. "Mostly by just vouching for you. I told them I knew for sure you were on our side. I didn't go into details as to how I knew."

It took a moment for Snape to take in these news, before he continued his questioning. "What about the war? Where is the dark lord?"

"He is dead. The war is over."

Snape's face turned into a nasty grimace at that, and he forgot all about his resolve to stay polite. "Over, is it? I should have known... But of course, Dumbledore would hear none of it. He trusted you. He was convinced you would do the right thing. But of course you're too important to let yourself die, you—"

"Shut up!" Harry's voice was barely above a whisper, but his tone was enough to silence his least favourite professor. "It's not what you think." Harry put up his hands to forestall any reply. Snape's voice had gotten louder with each word, even though it was starting to sound like a croak because of his injuries.

He had not really expected Snape to change, but it still surprised him that after all he had learned about the man, and his new found respect for him, he still could not stand him. It helped that Snape still hated him. Plus, there was no denying the fact that the man was naturally unpleasant.

"Voldemort is gone. For good, this time. I'll explain somewhere more private. Can you walk?"

Snape, too proud to let himself be levitated, and too curious to let it go, forced himself to stand up slowly, and then waited for the dizziness to pass.

They left the Great Hall and walked down the corridors leading to one of the broom cupboards on the ground floor. At least that was what Harry had in mind. But Snape stopped him as soon as they were out of earshot of the hall.

He leaned against the wall to steady himself and glared at Harry. "Now that you've dragged me here, maybe you could finally explain how you think the dark lord is gone, when you've obviously decided you'd rather not sacrifice yourself."

"I did sacrifice myself."

He said this very calmly, with a simple conviction that Snape knew in an open, direct, emotional, _brawny_ Gryffindor could only come from speaking the truth. He drew back, surprised and, to his chagrin, rather awed.

"I did as I was supposed to: handed myself in willingly and didn't fight back. Voldemort used the Killing Curse, and... Well, that's where it gets weird." Harry frowned, still unsure how real his meeting with Dumbledore had been.

Snape raised his eyebrows impatiently, urging Harry to go on.

The boy in question came to the conclusion that it would be best to tell Snape everything from the beginning. Knowing about the Elder Wand and Harry's involvement with it, Snape was never going to believe that Sirius had come back from the veil just like that, anyway. He might as well know everything.

As shortly as he could, Harry recounted everything that had happened since seeing Snape's memories in the Pensieve. When he told Snape about Lily and the Marauders walking with him, the Potions Master looked away, and then remained perfectly still, so that he would give away as little as possible of his inner turmoil.

"So Dumbledore left you the Resurrection Stone so that you would survive. That such an object should really exist..."

"No, no. That's not what happened," Harry interrupted him. "At least, that's not what Dumbledore said..." Telling Snape about his meeting with Dumbledore, their little chat in la-la land and the late headmaster's explanation for Harry's survival that the boy in question did not fully understand himself took quite a bit of time.

By the end, the Potions Master looked sceptical, if not outright disbelieving, and more than a little tired. Despite this, and despite the fact that his voice was about to give out, he made a valiant effort to hide his physical state and hear the end of the tale.

When Harry told about his final fight with Voldemort, and the reason for his victory, he also mentioned that he had told Voldemort about his wand's allegiance.

"So he found out I wasn't on his side?" The thought seemed to cheer up Snape.

"Er, yeah." Harry hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. "I explained to him how I knew that."

"You told him-" Only his voice giving out prevented Snape from shouting at Harry. "But then, everyone knows. Everyone who watched you kill him..." The horror of that thought rendered him speechless.

"No, they don't. No one wanted to come close to Voldemort and we were talking quietly." He gave a tiny, snorting laugh. "That was really lucky, too, because I mentioned everything else, too. Horcruxes, the Elder Wand... It would have been a disaster."

Snape's gaze was clearly telling him how much of a dunderhead he was, and that his professor had not expected any better of him. "Are you quite sure no one heard you?"

"Yeah. Ron and Hermione were easily the closest to me, and they said they couldn't hear exactly what I was saying. And Kingsley was close, too, him being an auror. But he didn't even hear what I said about you. I had to explain it to him later on."

Snape needed a moment to absorb this. "Well, then. Anything else I need to know?"

So Harry finally told him about the four survivors and Sirius' return.

Snape was not exactly pleased with the news, but as he was trying to remain polite, all he said was: "Great. The worst troublemakers of Hogwarts are back again. Fantastic."

He thought of something and his eyes sharpened. "So. Hero that you are, you wouldn't let anyone close to you die." He was trying very hard for sarcasm, but he could not quite summon up his usual sharpness. "How did you explain that to people?"

"I didn't. We are, sort of, keeping it secret."

"You always did have more luck than brains, didn't you? Who managed to convince you that it would be foolish to do otherwise?"

Harry bristled at that. "I did not need convincing."

"Right. And you didn't shout out – in front of an audience that included Death Eaters – that you own the Elder Wand, and mention Horcruxes, and-"

"All right. So I made a mistake. I was fighting Voldemort. Shouldn't that be excuse enough?"

"So you came up with the idea to keep it quiet?"

"Well, no. Hermione suggested it first. But I agreed-" He broke off, seeing Snape's triumphant look.

"I will keep your little secret. In exchange, I expect you to keep vouching for my innocence."

For years, Harry had suspected his professor of being on Voldemort's side. And no matter what anyone told him, even when Snape tried to save him, he had always been a little suspicious. Feeling somewhat guilty, now that he knew Snape was not a traitor, he was trying his best to remain polite. At Snape's last comment, he felt he was reaching his limit. "I told you the truth myself, I already vouched for you, and am going to continue doing that," he said as calmly as he could.

"Of course you were," Snape said disdainfully. "You're not going to deviate from your quest, are you?" His brows drew together, as a new thought occurred to him. "Speaking of quests. What happened to Nagini?"

Harry did not quite manage to keep a straight face. "Neville killed it."

"_Longbottom-_"

Harry's lips twitched suspiciously as he watched the realization dawn on Snape's face that the student he had considered the weakest in his class, whose boggart had once been Snape himself, had managed to kill the snake that had almost eaten Snape.

Snape slumped against the wall, no longer able to hold himself upright. "Just what I wanted to hear. Maybe I shouldn't have survived after all..."

There was something in Snape's tone that indicated he was more than half serious, that made Harry listen up and take notice. He became quite suddenly aware how ill and weakened his professor looked, shrunk into himself as he was, barely holding himself upright leaning heavily against the wall.

There was not much that recalled the way Harry had perceived him a year ago, right after he had killed Dumbledore, or even the way he had first perceived him as a student, in his early years at Hogwarts.

Harry was struck by the idea that Snape had not only expected to die, he had actually not really wanted to survive.

"Er, that's all, I think. Maybe we should head back?" he asked rather meekly.

Snape nodded, then tried to straighten himself to walk. The way back seemed a lot longer, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that Potter was using magic to help him stay upright. He did not look to see if it was true, though, because he really did not want to know.

Poppy Pomfrey was waiting for them in the Great Hall, quite appalled that her patient was wandering at night. She fussed over him and, to his pleasure, gave Potter a talking-to for forcing him out of bed.

Everything was a blur after that. He did not notice Potter going over to his sleeping bag. He only recalled fragments of Madam Pomfrey's admonishments, her warning to speak as little as possible, and the various potions forced down his throat. Finally, she helped him to his sleeping bag, and he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**A/N: Snape is definitely the last character I refused to let die. From the next chapter on, things will actually start to happen. Until then!**


	7. Chapter 7

Everything seemed to go according to plan the next morning. In retrospect, that in itself should have alerted Harry, but it started out innocuously enough.

The night had passed peacefully. There had been some concern about the runaway Death Eaters which had led to all of the survivors sleeping in the Great Hall or the secured Hospital Wing, even though Harry had longed for his bed in the Gryffindor dormitories.

Though he felt he could have slept for another day or so, Harry got up with everyone else. The sleeping bags were cleared away to make place for the tables, and breakfast was served on time.

Harry had felt a little worried about how the Marauders and Snape were going to react to each other's presence. During their talk by the lake, he had told Sirius and Remus a few things about Snape's past. They had either known the rest or guessed it. Later, when Madam Pomfrey had been trying to save Snape, Harry had taken his Godfather aside and made him promise not to taunt his old school enemy with his new knowledge. Sirius had agreed to that because he did not want his Godson being accused of giving away secrets.

It turned out, Harry's worry had been unnecessary. Sirius still had to remain in dog form, and Snape stayed away from them, away from most people, who were still regarding him suspiciously. He mostly stayed with his colleagues, trying to regain some of his old relationship with them, and in a roundabout way apologise for the way he had acted towards them during the last year.

Many people were going to leave immediately after breakfast, but there was no hurry and no hectic as everyone sat down to eat. Despite the general disorder, uncertainty, grief, and all the signs of destruction around them, there was a unified feeling of returning to normalcy, almost like returning home. Most people were either current students or alumni and a Hogwarts meal was something everyone held in fond memory. Even the most hard-boiled people could not fight the nostalgia at seeing dozens of owls fly over the tables and drop off newspapers for everyone.

Right after they had brought Snape back to the castle, Hermione had seen Rita Skeeter snooping around the castle grounds, collecting material for the next day's special edition of the Daily Prophet about their victory.

In her usual manner, Hermione had blackmailed Skeeter to stay close to the official facts when telling about her and her friends, and to also write a story about Sirius. The Golden Trio had then given the annoyed journalist an interview to make up for that.

Shacklebolt had in the meantime made it official that Sirius was innocent. His name was taken off the wanted list and he was cleared of all charges. Together with the newspaper article they felt it would be safe for Sirius to appear in person.

The anticipated newspaper came during breakfast, and it did contain the article about Sirius. After that, Padfoot became restless. He could not wait to turn back, and kept pestering them.

Once they felt enough time had passed that people had likely read the article, Harry left with Padfoot and Remus to a quiet corner where his Godfather could turn back into a human unobserved. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall would announce that Sirius was about to appear so that no one would be shocked to see him.

At their return to the Great Hall they were met with hushed whispers and people staring at them, but there were no stronger reactions to Sirius' presence. This was the first time since his imprisonment that his Godfather could walk freely in public, and his cheerfulness was contagious. When Harry sat back down at the table, he felt like nothing could go wrong.

Until Hermione turned to him with a concerned face and handed him a newspaper. "Read the main article, the one about the battle," she told him.

First he thought it might be something about their interviews. They had glossed over many details, and completely left out the Deathly Hallows. They did not say much about the Horcruxes, either, did not mention them by name, and only said that Voldemort had ensured he could not be killed using dark magic, which was the reason he managed to return to power. They admitted they had spent their year in hiding to get rid of Voldemort's 'life insurance'.

As a compensation for that, harry went into a lot of detail about Voldemort's past, his parentage and upbringing. For the rest of the interview, he referred to him as 'Riddle'.

Though Skeeter was clearly less interested in it, he also spoke at length about his mother's sacrifice and the protection it gave would have preferred to leave that as a minor detail and put al emphasis on the prophesy made about Harry. But once the chosen one explained to her that it was that very protection that had saved him a second time from the Killing Curse, she seemed to reconsider.

To make up for refusing to tell her how Voldemort managed to stay alive, the three friends told her in great detail about their escape during Bill and Fleur's wedding and their break-ins into the ministry and Gringotts.

The interview was reproduced fairly accurately, and Skeeter had even refrained from any speculation about the parts they had left out.

It was only when he reached the end of the article that Harry realized what Hermione was upset about. Skeeter had finished off her article with a lot of sentimental stuff about new beginnings and forgiving old mistakes, and had quietly slipped in the fact that she had been an unregistered animagus for years.

Apparently, she had used the current chaos at the ministry to register without too much fuss and recriminations.

"You think she did that so you won't be able to blackmail her any longer," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Well, yes. Of course."

"But it doesn't make any sense. It was such a huge advantage. Why, just so she can write what she wants about us?"

"That's what worries me so, Harry. I think we've become her main interest."

"But we know she's a bug. We can take precautions," argued Ron.

Harry thought so, too, but Hermione would not stop worrying.

The barest necessities had been taken care of the previous day. Some of the remaining aurors had secured the castle as much as it was possible at the time. The dead Death Eaters, including Voldemort, had been buried without ceremony in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, far away from Hogwarts. The people who had died defending Hogwarts had been taken care of by their families. And Madam Pomfrey, with the help of healers from the hospital, had at least stabilized all the injured. No one wanted to spend another night sleeping in the Great Hall, so after breakfast everyone who did not ordinarily live at Hogwarts prepared to leave the castle.

There were so many things that needed to be done. A memorial was to be built at Hogwarts for all the fallen, the injured needed to be transferred to St. Mungo's, not to mention the rebuilding of the castle, which had taken serious damage during the battle.

But no one wanted to think about these things right away. Everyone longed for simple conveniences like a shower, or a change of clothing, seeing their homes again, and dealing with the emotions caused by the battle in private.

Sirius had decided to take a room at the Hog's Head. He would not have stayed at 12 Grimmauld Place even if it had not been invaded by Death Eaters, leaving it in an unknown state of disrepair. He left the Great Hall as soon as they were done eating, disconcerted by all the speculative looks he got, and the sheer amount of people, after spending so many years away from society. Harry and Remus followed him.

In the corridor, close to the entrance to the hall, they saw Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown huddled together in a corner. Lavender's head was bent, her back to the wall, and Harry could tell that the shoulder Greyback had bitten was heavily bandaged, even though she was wearing clothes on top of it.

"Come with me, please. You need to eat something," Parvati was saying.

Lavender shook her head, not looking up.

"Look, no one's going to notice a thing if you wear your hair down," her friend tried again.

Harry knew what she was talking about. Greyback had sunk his claws in her neck to hold her in place before Hermione had blasted him off.

Lavender buried her face in her hands. "You don't understand. Madam Pomfrey said-" Her voice broke, came out as a sob. "She said I might be... might be..." She was unable to go on, dissolving in hitched sobs.

Harry realized he had stopped, forcing Remus and Sirius to do the same. They were looking at him curiously.

"They are Gryffindor students from your year, aren't they?" Remus seemed to remember his old students well, or perhaps he remembered people close to Harry.

"Yes, they are." He looked at Remus, unsure how he was going to react. "Lavender – the blonde girl," he clarified, in case Remus did not remember the name. "She was bitten by Greyback."

Remus' eyes widened at that. Then he looked away, unable to meet Harry's gaze. "Maybe I should stay and talk to her."

Harry nodded, hopeful that he would manage to reassure Lavender. Remus stayed and Godfather and Godson continued on without him to Hogsmeade.

They were not met with any less chaos at the Hog's Head than they had left behind. All sorts of people were constantly walking in and out, including many of the students who had opted to stay instead of returning to Hogwarts. The shady types that made up most of the usual guests of the place were still here, though not as many. They looked even more suspicious with all the recent events, and stood in contrast to the rest of the people, who were not usually seen going into the Hog's Head, but now seemed to have taken over.

Aberforth was behind the bar, looking disapproving while serving a drink to a smartly dressed man whose hair kept falling in his eyes. Harry went over, just as the stranger was about to take a sip, then looked disgustedly at the glass in his hand and put it back down.

"What, you don't like the drink?" Aberforth's tone made it clear he could either like it or get lost.

"Oh, I – I don't think I should drink. Aurors shouldn't drink when they work, don't you think?"

Harry was surprised to hear that. The guy really did not seem the type to be an auror. He seemed too squeamish somehow, and altogether too interested in his appearance. By the look Aberforth sent to his retreating back, he agreed with Harry's assessment.

The old barman noticed the two new arrivals all of a sudden and his face took on a grave, almost angry expression as soon as his eyes fell on Harry.

Sirius, noticing this, tried to shift the attention back to himself. "I wanted to see if I could get a room at the Hog's Head. I don't know if you've heard, but I've just been declared innocent..." Sirius had been expecting odd looks and getting them, but Aberforth did not seem to care that a former Azkaban prisoner was asking for a room. He did not even seem to notice him, instead keeping his eyes on Harry.

"Oh, I've heard," the barman started slowly. "I've heard all sorts of things these past few hours. People thought dead turn out to be alive, and wanted Azkaban escapees turn out to be innocent." He gave Sirius a shrewd look at this.

"I really am innocent. I know it might seem hard to believe, but-"

"Oh, I know, I know. Much as I tried to refuse to get involved in my brother's insane plans, he still kept telling me all these things. By the way, that mirror he left me – he said it was yours?"

"What-" Sirius started to say.

"Yes, it is," said Harry at the same time. At his Godfather's confused look, he explained: "Your two-way mirror."

"You'll get it back, don't worry. I'm almost done with everything Albus wanted me to do to help you," he went on talking to Harry. "But let me say this one more thing: Be careful you don't get caught in your own web of lies. Now, I admit, it was easier for me to see through it. I already knew from my brother about Black."

So he had known that Sirius had fallen through the Veil. And had come back. "Oh," was all Harry could say.

"Yes. You're just not the type to keep secrets, are you? You don't seem to think far enough ahead. You forgot that I might know things, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. And that awful woman, Skeeter – she was here yesterday, snooping around. I don't know what she found out, but I'm sure she'll be back.

"My brother, whom you're so obviously – and foolishly – trying to imitate – well, he used to be really good at keeping secrets. You'd never be able to tell what he knew, or thought. But even he could not keep all his secrets. Skeeter uncovered quite a few uncomfortable truths, didn't she? If you're not careful, she'll do the same to you."

Having said what he wanted to say, Aberforth at once turned away from Harry and towards Sirius. "Now, about that room you wanted..."

Embarrassingly for the both of them, it turned out that neither Godfather nor Godson had any money on them. Aberforth did not seem too happy about it, but he did not say anything, and let Sirius have the room on credit.


	8. Chapter 8

They were about to leave the inn, when Harry saw the auror from before being joined by several others. He had seen one of them accompany the Death Eaters the morning before, and assumed correctly that they were aurors, as well. They began to talk in hushed whispers, and as much as they tried to be unobtrusive, Harry knew at once that there was some problem. He got really concerned when he saw Shacklebolt join them, and decided to go over and find out what was happening.

The temporary minister anticipated Harry's question as soon as he saw him. "Harry, there is no need to worry. We are just having some trouble collecting the Dementors and taking them back to Azkaban."

"But weren't they all here? In the forest, I mean. I saw them..." Harry could not quite suppress the despair he had felt as he remembered walking towards the clearing where Voldemort was waiting for him, all the while feeling the dementors surround him, and being unable to fight them.

"I'm afraid they left. Immediately after you killed Voldemort, as far as we could tell."

"Left? Where did they go? Are you looking for them? If you could use some help-"

"Ah, Mr. Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you. You truly are always trying to help, aren't you?" the auror with the fancy haircut asked in an annoyingly patronizing tone. "But please rest assured, we have everything under control. As professional aurors, we know exactly-"

"Thank you, Mr. Bellamy," Shacklebolt interrupted him, looking apologetic at Harry. "We can't just track them down and collect them, I'm afraid. They tend to obey the current highest power, and should have gotten back to Azkaban after we won and called them. The Department of Mysteries is trying to find out why they refused to obey."

"And in the meantime? Aren't you going to do anything?" asked Harry, resolutely ignoring the sour expressions on some of the aurors' faces who felt that a teenager should not feel free to ask that, even if said teenager had gotten rid of their worst problem just the day before. But because Harry was exactly that said teenager, they could hardly complain.

"That's exactly what we were discussing. We think we found where they are. The dementors were seen heading south together with some of the snatchers. We don't know if there is a Death Eater involved as well, but it shouldn't really matter. The dementors will want to be around as many people as possible, preferably non-magical people, who can't fight them off. What needs to be done now is to keep them away from humans, especially muggles. I'm going to go along with the aurors, and hopefully I'll even be able to explain to them that I'm the minister now, that the war is over, and that the old rules are back in place."

"Thank you for telling me," Harry said, sincerely grateful that the new minister had not left him in the dark about what was happening. He felt he had abused his privilege far enough, asking Shacklebolt to explain closely guarded information more or less in public.

He went back to his Godfather, who was anxious to know what had Harry so worried. "Not here," was all he told Sirius, before starting back to Hogwarts.

While walking, he relayed what Shacklebolt had confided in him, making sure to leave out all mentions of his unease about the whole thing, and generally sound reassured, like he believed the aurors would have no problems dealing with the situation. Sirius listened thoughtfully, not interrupting him. Silence stretched between them once Harry was done talking, until his Godfather finally said: "I don't like it."

The young boy, so tired of worrying, sighed and agreed: "Neither do I."

They found Hogwarts a lot less crowded at their return. Most of those people who usually did not belong there had cleared out, and only a few people remained who looked out of place, readying to leave as well. Unfortunately, this only made it more noticeable in what a disarray the school itself was. The emptying, damaged building with all that debris laying about made for a depressing sight.

It took them a while to find their companions. They finally discovered them in the Hospital Wing, deciding how best to transport the comatose patients. Since what had happened to Fred and the others had to remain secret, they had decided it would be best to take them to their respective homes where they would be away from all unwanted attention, and only have Madam Pomfrey visit to take care of them.

Harry, though, had other worries at the moment and could not be bothered to take part in that discussion. Hermione and Ron noticed at once, and came over to where he stood, a little away from the others. He told them about the dementors, without bothering to hide his concern.

His friends exchanged a worried look. Then Hermione said: "It's going to be all right. The snatchers are... They're not as organized as the Death Eaters. They don't have any causes they believe in. It's just that every criminal, every outlaw saw an opportunity to cause more damage as snatchers. And now, with order about to be restored, they fear punishment. And wreaking even more havoc probably seemed just the thing."

As soon as she was done talking, the three friends noted the quiet around them, and then realized that the others had come closer and were listening in on their conversation.

Before Harry could say anything to them, Andromeda interjected: "What worries me is that they got the dementors to listen to them."

"But that's not exactly news, is it? They've been on Voldemort's side since he regained power." No one flinched at Hermione's use of the name any more, their victory had finally taken care of the fear.

"It's not that simple..."

"Shacklebolt said the Department of Mysteries is looking into it."

"Are they now? What, they've consented to share some information?" Andromeda sounded mocking, but Harry thought he could detect pent-up frustration in her answer.

"But, I don't understand, what do they have to do with it?" Hermione of course would not stand for anyone knowing something she did not know and not explaining it to her.

"The reason the dementors started to obey the Death Eaters was because they gained more power than the ministry. Usually, we say that dementors obey whoever has the most power. But it's not quite that simple. It doesn't explain why dementors do that. It's just that this version of the truth is easier to deal with for most people.

"Unspeakables will tell you that dementors are a representation, or a projection, if you want, of the misery and despair that exists in the land. The more misery, the more dementors there are. So it's in a dementor's best interest to have war and chaos."

"Oh. Of course they don't want to go back, then," concluded Ron. " The more people they terrorize, the more misery there will be, and the more they can breed."

"Don't be silly Ron," Hermione interrupted him impatiently. "If that were the case, the dementors would never obey anyone."

"You are both right, actually." Andromeda almost smiled. "It's true, dementors can't really increase the total despair on their own. If they could, they would not be a representation of the existing despair. That's exactly how unspeakables see it. And congratulate themselves on their deep understanding and ability to deal with such difficult truths. And then they suggest one shouldn't bother doing anything, because these things will work out on their own. Or so they think."

"You don't like unspeakables very much, do you?" Harry asked shrewdly.

Sirius snorted, making his cousin roll her eyes at him. "Well, she would know, wouldn't she? Used to be one herself."

"Really? Mrs. Tonks, you used to be an unspeakable?"

"Yes, I'm afraid they roped me in. A Black who changed sides, so to speak. They were very eager to have me work for them. And for a while it was... fascinating... But eventually I got tired of it all. I just felt so useless. First lesson they teach you, you can only be an unspeakable if you can deal with knowing certain things and also knowing that you can't change them. Really important if you're dealing with prophesies. But you can't live like that. When you know something needs to be done, then you should just do it, not debate whether or not it might work itself out.

"Like now, for example. It's true, dementors can't breed by just wreaking havoc. But what the unspeakables tend to forget is that besides being representations misery, dementors are very intelligent magical beings. And there are other ways they can think of to find 'food'."

"They can help someone else who is planning to cause a lot of chaos," realized Hermione.

"Yes, exactly. That's what's worrying me. Whoever they're following right now is someone they believe has a lot of power, or will have a lot of power soon."

Not unexpectedly, that pronouncement led to everyone's dimmed mood. Harry was feelling so anxious and frustrated that he was sitting around doing nothing, that he could not even properly accept the thanks he was receiving from Colin's parents. They had arrived not long after his return to the castle, and Dennis had led them inside the building they could not see from the outside, alll the way to the Hospital Wing, to Colin's bedside. He had also filled them in on what had happened to their eldest son, and that was the reason they had come over to Harry, a boy they had never met before, to thank him and assure him that he could trust them to keep his secret.

Once Harry had managed to extricate himself from them without seeming rude, he went to find the rest of the Golden Trio who were at that moment bickering about who might be leading the dementors.

"You know, I just thought of something," he interrupted them. "D'you reckon the Malfoys might know something?"


	9. Chapter 9

The room was dark and almost completely empty, save for a few chairs, and a table with a single candle on it. It was not lit as it was daytime, but it looked as if it had served as the only illumination the previous evening, and was likely going to remain so for the coming one as well.

Malfoy Sr. was sitting in the far corner, brooding by himself. His wife was sitting as well, as close to him as he seemed to tolerate. Draco was on his feet and turned to face them as they opened the door.

If McGonagall had been surprised by their request to talk to the Malfoys, they had been even more surprised by what she had told them. Apparently, while they had been hurrying about, explaining things here and hushing things up there, the Malfoys had been 'detained', told to remain in one of the abandoned classrooms before they could be questioned.

Harry got an uncomfortable feeling hearing that. It seemed, the post-war state was a lot more unpredictable than he had thought.

The Malfoys looked at him warily. There was a curious lack of surprise, as if nothing could get to them. While Lucius turned back to his brooding after a moment, and Narcissa kept sending them nervous glances, Draco faced them head-on.

"Potter," he said as a greeting. His tone was more restrained than Harry had ever heard from him. He looked resigned, and Harry had no problems detecting the worry behind the outwardly composed expression.

Harry nodded to him, then stepped fully into the room. His friends did likewise. They made sure Lucius would see and hear them, as he was the most likely to know the answers to their questions, even if he had lost his former standing in Voldemort's ranks during the last years.

"There is a question we need you to answer," began Hermione.

"How did Voldemort get the dementors to obey him?" Harry went straight to the point.

"You need your questions answered, do you?" Malfoy Sr. did not even turn his head, just sent them a dark look from underneath his lank hair falling in front of his face. There was suppressed rage and wounded pride in his tone.

The three friends' hopes of getting the answers easily dimmed somewhat, and they prepared for a long argument, only to be surprised by Draco's interference.

"Father..." he began quietly, hesitantly, but with a determination that Lucius could not ignore. "Maybe we should hear them out."

Father and son exchanged a long look, and then the fight seemed to go out of Lucius. "Fine," he relented. "Let's hear them." He turned to harry. "But first, Mr. Potter, maybe you could tell us: Is this part of our official questioning -" he spat out the word official. "Or are you just having a first go at us?"

"Now that things are calming down, people are no longer as willing to just ignore you," Hermione said to Harry's surprise. He almost interrupted her to ask where she thought she was going with that, but held himself back because he did not want the Malfoys to see any disagreement between them.

It won't be long before we all have to face the damage that's been done," Hermione went on. "People might want to hold someone responsible, and you might end up getting punished."

"Really? That thought had never even occurred to me."

"Yes, really." The sarcasm seemed lost on Hermione. "It would be in your best interest to give us inside information."

Despite his initial willingness to help, it was Draco who reacted worst to that comment. He drew up to full height, and looked ready to curse her for her attempt at intimidation.

Lucius was an entirely different matter. He only seemed angry for a moment, and then his eyes sharpened. Harry was sure the older Malfoy was considering them and what they might mean for his state very carefully. It was not the first time Lucius had found himself in this situation, after all. He had managed to extricate himself from a similar situation after the first war.

"It would be in my best interest to help the ministry, and give them all the information they require," he stated in his usual drawl. "But last I checked, you didn't work for the ministry."

Ron shifted his weight at Harry's side, clearly losing his patience. Narcissa noticed as well, and joined in: "Of course, if we thought the ministry would approve of us helping you..." She left the sentence unfinished. It was clear to all where she was going with it and what she wanted to hear. Ron and Hermione were glowering at her for her barely concealed demand, and even her son was staring daggers at her. That she was asking his school enemies for help, of all people, was clearly turning his stomach.

But Harry had enough of it all. He needed the information and did not mind as much as he had thought, if the Malfoys walked free. "We'll of course make sure you will be compensated," he said. The older Malfoys looked at him, wishing for more assurance. Harry sighed. "I'll tell the minister I couldn't have won without your help, and that I don't think you should be punished. Will that do?"

Draco turned away, embarrassed, as his parents exchanged looks, finally satisfied with Harry's response. "For the last year, the dementors have been obeying the Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge," Lucius told them. "I believe you know her?" Harry, remembering the vile woman, felt colour drain from his face.

"But why her?" Harry was glad Hermione was asking the important questions, as his own mind felt rather blank at the moment.

"I'm not entirely sure." Lucius did not even attempt to sound interested. "But she's had a lot of control over them for a few years now. I guess, with the speed the ministers kept changing, she was the only stable power."

The Malfoys did not have much more to add to that. The three friends left them and headed back to the Great Hall to find the others. They walked in silence for a while, each thinking what to do next.

"I don't get it," Hermione suddenly broke the silence. "What could she be planning?"

"I know what you mean," Harry agreed. "She's the last person I can think of who would want to fight a bunch of aurors."

"Fight the aurors?" Ron exclaimed. "What are you on about?"

"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione began, exasperated. "Didn't you listen to what's going on? Shacklebolt and all the aurors he could get are off to fight Umbridge and her army of dementors. I guess she was afraid they'd be coming after her anyway, and she'd be safer with the dementors, but really. I thought even she'd have enough sense to realize that she'd be better off fleeing or hiding..."

"She's not going to fight the aurors," Ron said to his friends' surprise, sounding even more astonished than they looked. "Come on, guys. You don't really think she's anywhere close to where the aurors are!"

"What do you mean?" Harry was still confused.

"Well..." Ron went red as he saw that they had stopped walking and that he was suddenly the centre of attention. "She's off to the ministry, obviously. Now that she's managed to get the minister and all the aurors away from there..."

"Oh!" Hermione caught on. "You think she's trying to seize the power, to overthrow Kingsley..." She sounded dismayed that she had not thought of that sooner.

"We have to get there as soon as possible," Harry exclaimed, horrified at the thought that Umbridge might succeed. They started moving again, much faster this time. They were almost running.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Harry's tone was angry and accusatory.

Ron scowled. "I thought it was obvious! You get the protection away from the king so you can checkmate-" Ron broke off, seeing the looks he was getting and turned red to his ear tips.

"I really should get better at chess," grumbled Harry. "But I'm guessing you're not thinking of Kingsley as the king, are you?"

"No, no. The aurors, and the minister – they are the major pieces. The ministry, or – or the government, whatever – that's the king."

Hermione knew very little chess, but she knew enough to get the comparison. "You mean the Wizengamot."

"Well, yes, I guess." At this point Ron was less sure of himself. "But what's she planning to do? If she wants to be minister, she'd have to be elected..."

"The Wizengamot can name someone temporary minister, like they did with Kingsley..." Harry turned to Hermione, hoping she would have more insight into the workings of the magical government.

Hermione bit her lip, before her eyes widened in realization. "The Wizengamot chooses the chief warlock, and in a crisis, the chief warlock can act as temporary minister before there can be elections."

"But they already did that. Kingsley is temporary minister."

"Yes, but he won't be for much longer if Umbridge has her way. Remember how Dumbledore lost his position as chief warlock? Fudge called a meeting of the whole Wizengamot, one he was sure Dumbledore wouldn't know of, and allowed – well, actually forced – them to remove Dumbledore from the position. He made that insane law that allowed the Wizengamot to do that, even when the chief warlock wasn't present."

"Let me guess: the law still exists?" Harry asked, even though it was not much of a question.

"Yes. All Umbridge has to do is force the Wizengamot to choose her as chief warlock and then declare herself minister."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This adventure has taken much more time to write than I thought it would. But there's only one chapter left after this one, and then I'll go back to writing about rebuilding.**

They found Sirius right away, searching for Harry. Everyone else had scattered all over the school grounds. To find them faster, they separated and went in search in all four directions. The appointed meeting place was the Chamber of Reception, now again empty. The time to leave was set in a quarter of an hour, and they would have to contend themselves with whom they could collect until then.

With every step he took, Harry was aware that he was losing valuable time. He hurried along deserted corridors, abandoned classrooms, along the well-known paths of the school grounds, looking for everyone who could be of help.

There were not many people left at Hogwarts, and not everyone who was there was someone Harry could trust with the sort of news he was about to give. He came across a couple of seventh years, surrounded by their families, being reassured and soothed by their parents. Harry could not do it, could not take them away from their regained safety and ask them to fight again. The teachers, he thought at once. Where were the teachers?

He found them in the staffroom. Their voices reached him through the door, a quiet murmur of conversation, and a few hesitant, abruptly cut off chuckles. He felt like an intruder even before he knocked. Startled faces met him when he entered, and everyone fell silent. Harry looked around, unsure how to start.

It could almost have passed for a scene like thousands of others that room had seen, like it used to be before the war. But even ignoring all the injuries, the teachers seemed subdued, shrunk into themselves somehow, as if they did not quite dare yet to return to normalcy.

There were spaces left to fill, for one. Even an outsider like Harry could notice the gaps between the teachers, left almost deliberately. One of them belongs to Dumbledore, thought Harry. And that one female teacher whom he knew had died. Harry vaguely recalled she used to teach art. Then there was Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies professor who had 'disappeared'. Harry knew exactly what had happened to her. He had witnessed it through his connection with Voldemort.

Despite their injuries, everyone else seemed to be there; even Snape, who was reading a book in a corner far in the back.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall turned to him. "Is something the matter?" Her tone reflected the concern in everyone's eyes.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." He hesitated, feeling the worried glances of everyone in the room on him.

"You might want to tone down on the dramatics," Snape said while getting up and moving over to the entrance. "Or else people will actually start to believe there's trouble." His voice still sounded mangled. It felt awfully wrong somehow, hearing it in broad daylight. Snape's oily voice had always been an unalterable constant before. It made Harry hesitate long enough to see the look Snape was giving him. It was the exact same look he had given him when Harry had mentioned discussing the Elder Wand with Voldemort in the Great Hall.

Harry scanned the room once more. There was Slughorn, pulling at his bandaged arm and looking almost exactly like he had when Dumbledore had transfigured him back from an armchair. And Trelawney, who had been about to take a sip from her cup of tea, now sat with her mouth opened to drink and the cup suspended in mid-air, her eyes fixed on him. Not far from her Professors Sinistra, Vector and a few others sat together, exchanging worried looks.

As bravely as they had defended the school, most of those people were no fighters. Harry's heart sank at the realization, but for what was very likely the first time in their mutual history, he listened to Snape's warning and backtracked. "No, no trouble. Just a little problem we need some help with... But there's nothing to worry about..." He made for the door slowly, hoping in vain that the professors would follow him.

"Anyone feel up to it?" asked McGonagall.

Flitwick and Sprout stood up.

Slughorn, the fourth Head of House, gave a jerk, then seeing that all the other professors remained seated, he hesitated. "Do you think... That is, will you be needing my help as well?"

"No, that's all right, Horace. I'm sure we can deal with whatever it is," McGonagall told him. And the look she gave Harry clearly told him not to argue.

As soon as they were out of the staffroom, Harry turned to her. "Professor, I'm afraid it's a little more serious than I made it sound like."

"Yes, Harry, I realize that. I ignored your asking for help once, in your first year, and let you face danger alone. I'm not going to do that again."

"Thank you." Harry said quietly, hoping it would express all her confession meant to him.

"Yes, well." She cleared her throat, and amused, Harry realized that she was embarrassed.

"But then, why didn't you let Professor Slughorn come along? I mean, he almost-"

"I'm afraid Horace has exhausted his courage for a while," McGonagall interrupted his complaint. "And many of the other Professors aren't that great at duelling." She sighed. "No, I'm afraid we'll have to do."

Harry let it go, and did not mention that Sprout was not much of a dueller, either. He started leading them towards the Chamber of Reception, all the while filling them in on what was happening.

Luckily, the others had done better at getting hold of people, as Harry found out when they arrived. Besides the regular fighters, meaning Hermione, the Weasleys, Sirius, Remus, Neville and Luna, there were also most of the old DA members. Harry immediately saw Dean and Seamus, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, and interestingly, his grandmother, standing next to Neville. Lee, and most of the old Gryffindor quidditch team were standing around George. Andromeda Tonks was there as well, and Teddy, now awake, kept making odd noises and changing his hair colour, making him the centre of attention. The female members of the group especially were distracted by him.

"Where's everyone from the order?" Sirius was asking.

"Well, Emmeline and Mad-Eye were killed," Remus told him.

Sirius' face turned sombre. Then he lowered his head and nodded.

"Sturgis is in hospital, and Hestia and Dedalus are still guarding the Muggle families. I don't think anyone's told them that the war's over," supplied McGonagall.

With a jolt Harry remembered the Dursleys and wondered what had happened to them, but let it go for the moment. Now was not the time.

"And Dung hasn't turned up since he disappeared during that battle. We have no idea where he is," finished Arthur Weasley.

"So it's just us, then," Sirius concluded.

"You won't all be coming along, though," Hermione began explaining her plan. "Some of you have to go and find Kingsley, tell him what's happening so that he'll get back to the ministry as fast as possible.

"The next problem is how to get into the ministry," Hermione went on. "Umbridge will have had enough sense to put out all the fires in the fireplaces."

"There is another way of getting in," Percy told her. It was surprising enough to see him there, but for him to actively try to help was a different matter. In an instant, everyone's attention was on him, and he proved once more that he really was a Weasley by blushing that ridiculously bright red that only members of his family seemed capable of. "As – as I was saying – there's another way in. In fact, the floo network was barely used any more this last year. We had this new coin system-"

"Yes, the coins," Hermione interrupted him. "We-" she pointed at herself, Ron and Harry, "have a coin each." At the surprised murmurs following her announcement she smiled cheekily. "Well, we wanted to see what this new ministry looked like, you see."

Harry and Ron snorted, while everyone else was sending them intrigued glances, trying to guess at their adventures.

"I have a coin as well," Mr Weasley told them, then turned to his most troublesome son. "What about you, Percy?"

"I – No. My fireplace was connected to the ministry-"

"Oh, that's great! That's exactly what we needed." Hermione interrupted him once again, this time sending him an apologetic look.

Percy did not seem bothered. On the contrary, his hesitancy when he had mentioned that his fireplace had been allowed to connect to the ministry, and what it implied, seemed to vanish. He looked relieved that instead of being held against him, it had turned out to be useful.

"That's it?" Snape's voice sounded even worse this time, or maybe it just drew more attention to itself because it already sounded out of place due to Snape's interruption. "That's your whole plan?"

Sirius snorted at the sound of his voice, and received a murderous glare in return. Before he could say anything, though, Harry looked at him pleadingly, and mouthed: "Not now."

Snape was standing suspiciously close to a wall, and Harry would bet he had been leaning on it before starting to speak and drawing attention to himself. His damaged voice, ill health and barely concealed suspicions about his loyalties in everyone around him should have been reason enough for him not to draw attention to himself. That he chose to speak could only mean that he thought what he had to say to be important enough that the other concerns did not matter.

"Well, you haven't heard the plan yet." Hermione sounded put out. "I was about to-"

"Your plan – if it can be called that – is for you three – and perhaps Arthur, as well – to get inside the ministry using the coins-"

"Now, wait a minute," Mrs. Weasley piped up in the background. "What do you mean by those three? I, for one, don't see why they need to go first, of all people. They've done more than enough fighting to last a lifetime-"

"Molly, dear," her husband interrupted her, "you know it won't do any good."

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to argue, then looked at the determined faces of the trio and let it go.

"-light one of the fireplaces, and let everyone else come through from Percy Weasley's fireplace," Snape continued talking without letting himself be interrupted by Mrs. Weasley's worries. "And that's where your plan ends."

"That's because we don't have time for more!" Ron came to Hermione's defence. "If Umbridge can force the Wizengamot to make her chief warlock before we get there, we'll be too late!"

"That may be so, Weasley." Snape emphasized every word, and managed to sound intimidating despite his voice breaking in odd places. "But if you just rush in, if you don't prepare for any problems you might encounter, you may do more harm than good."

"Look, Professor," Ron emphasized the title, clearly trying to remain pleasant, "this is not the first time we're preparing to break into the ministry. But if there's one thing we learned last time, it's that you can't plan for everything. We need to act now." At these words he nodded towards Harry, in memory of almost exactly the same speech Harry had given him and Hermione in 12 Grimmauld Place before they had snuck into the ministry.

"What, your misguided attempt to free the Muggleborns didn't go as planned?"

"We weren't there to free the Muggleborns in the first place," Harry answered, because Ron was clearly losing his patience. "That was never part of the plan, but as Ron said, you never know what-"

"What were you doing there, then?" Snape's normal sneer was firmly back in place. "Did you actually go there to retrieve Alastor Moody's eye? It was bad enough, thinking you'd put Dumbledore's plan in jeopardy so you could play the heroes, but-"

"We were there because of Dumbledore's plan." Harry took a deep breath to keep himself from shouting. "Umbridge had come to own one of those things Dumbledore wanted us to find."

Snape did not try to hide his surprise. "Umbridge? Why would she have-"

"That's a really long story. But let's just say she got it by accident."

Snape needed a moment to recover. "Well. Be that as it may. There are still a few questions that need to be answered before you rush off to the ministry.

"As soon as you enter the ministry, the dementors will know. Not to mention any other guards there might be. How do you suppose to fight them off long enough until you can light the fireplace and the others arrive?"

"The usual way, by casting a patronus," replied Harry, already knowing where Snape was going with that question and not liking it at all.

"Ah, yes, of course. Your... preferred method of fighting dementors." Snape sneered.

Harry remembered their argument back in sixth year, about the best method to deal with dementors. Snape, being the skilled Occlumens that he was, of course preferred that method. By completely clearing his mind, he managed to make himself uninteresting to the dementors. This was the method the Death Eaters used, as most were unable to cast a patronus.

"It is the best method," Ron defended him.

"Is it, now? Do you really think four people can keep away hundreds of dementors over any length of time? That sort of drain on your magic-"

"It won't be hundreds of them," Remus interrupted Snape. "The dementors will be where the people are – wherever Umbridge is holding the members of the Wizengamot. And that will hardly be close to the entrance."

"And, anyway, Severus, you're the only reliable Occlumens here," McGonagall told him. "And you're hardly in any condition to come along."

Snape bristled at this, and the looks that passed between the teachers told of the undercurrents of the relationship between the two, the way it had changed during the past year, and more recently, with the end of the war and revelations of Snape's true loyalties. Additionally, McGonagall was now the actual leader of the school, while Snape was still the official Headmaster. After a moment, though, Snape inclined his head, to show that he agreed. His strength was already leaving him, and he was starting to look almost as sickly as the night before.

He had one more comeback, though. "More importantly, how do you want to keep Umbridge from finding out you've arrived?

"You most certainly need to make sure she doesn't find out." Snape had to raise his voice to break off the arguments to the contrary. He coughed, then cleared his throat. "Otherwise, she might take hostages, or worse, lose her head and let the dementors kiss some of the members of the Wizengamot."

Harry had to fight a really misplaced urge to laugh. He just could not imagine Umbridge as someone who negotiated over hostages, or posed a threat. Unintentionally, his mind supplied him with an image of the ministry under Umbridge's rule: pink where it was dark now, full of pictures of kittens where menacing banners had been. He tried to imagine what would happen to the statue of the witch and wizard sitting over the bodies of Muggles, but could not come up with anything.

At that thought he sobered up. As farcical as the whole thing seemed, Harry knew better than anyone what Umbridge was capable of. It did not matter that she was neither talented nor powerful magically, nor fit the usual description of a tyrant. She had no pride, no scruples, nor any beliefs that might prevent her from doing everything to get what she wanted.

She had seemed just as ridiculous at the beginning of his fifth year, when she had first arrived, more annoying than threatening. But slowly, she had managed to take over more and more, until, finally, she was Headmistress, and everything at Hogwarts was going her way. The school had rebelled, of course. No one would allow her to remain in power. And Harry was sure, if Umbridge had learned anything from that disaster, she would not be attempting to become minister now. Just as the students had refused to listen to her after a while, so would the magical community rebel against her.

But Harry refused to let it come to that. The war was over, and the fighting would have to stop. He would not allow Umbridge to upset the regained peace.

Everyone looked glum at Snape's question, thinking how to avoid being sensed by the dementors. To Harry, that seemed quite impossible.

"Well, it's not quite as bad as that," Andromeda said. "It's difficult enough, communicating with dementors. But you also have the advantage that they won't want to tell immediately. They won't care much whether or not Umbridge wants to be informed as soon as someone gets in. The first thing they'll do when they sense you, is to come after you. Only if you survive long enough will they bother to inform Umbridge. So you do have some time." Her tone was light, obviously expecting what she had said to be reassuring.

"Yes, well, that should give us some time," Hermione recovered first. "But not all that much. Umbridge will notice something's off when the dementors around her start leaving."

"We'll just have to act fast, then," concluded Harry.

On that note, they decided they had lost enough time planning, and to hurry up.

The only thing left to decide was who would be staying and who would be coming along. Andromeda Tonks could not leave Teddy, so she had to stay. Of the teachers, only McGonagall would be coming along. The others remained to protect the school in case something unexpected happened. They all felt that the general situation was too chaotic to let their guard down.

Hannah Abbott would stay as well, and inform the remaining students, so they would also be prepared. Neville seemed so happy that she would be out of danger that Harry instantly realized he was interested in her. His eyes scanned the room and fell on Ginny, who was going through her arsenal of spells with Luna. She noticed Harry's gaze, looked up and smiled confidently. Despite the worry in the back of his mind, he felt very proud of her for her fearlessness.

Sirius and Remus, together with George and his friends, and some of the younger students who were unable to cast a patronus, would try to find Shacklebolt and his aurors, and fill them in on what was happening.

That decided, they set off. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Mr. Weasley apparated to London, close to the ministry. The others left for Percy's home. They would be watching one of the old DA coins, enchanted by Hermione, which would tell them when they could travel by floo powder to the ministry.

Harry again found himself in the familiar alleyway where their last break into the ministry had started from. It was empty, as before, and once they were all assembled, they set out for the spiked black railings flanking the public toilets. But this was as far as they could follow the steps of their previous adventure. Chances were high there were guards inside the toilets as well.

They argued for a bit about who was to go in first. Harry, with his Invisibility Cloak was first to volunteer. Mr. Weasley did not want to let him, though. He did not want to let his son or his friends walk into danger first. Before they were done arguing, Harry threw on his Cloak, opened the door labelled Gentlemen, and went in first.

A moment later, they heard a shout and a dull thud. They rushed in after Harry, Hermione not even caring that she might be seen going into the men's toilet.

"There was only one wizard in here. I think he's a snatcher," Harry told them when they reached him. "I stunned him," he added rather unnecessarily, the snatcher in question lying at his feet.

"Harry, you shouldn't have rushed in like that," Hermione told him. "There might have been wards-"

"Very unlikely. Umbridge had neither time nor skill for that."

Before going into different cubicles, they discussed how to proceed once they were inside the ministry. Mr. Weasley, who was the only one who could light the ministry fireplaces, already knew what he had to do. The teenagers would have to keep the dementors – and perhaps snatchers, as well – away to allow him to do that. Being the oldest member of the group, and still thinking of the other three as children, Mr. Weasley was rather uncomfortable with this. But after Harry's impulsive action he fully realized that he was the odd one out. The three friends were so used to working together that they could almost guess each others' thoughts. It was easier to let them do the planning on their own.

It only took them a few moments, then they stepped into separate cubicles and flushed. And they were off into the unknown.


	11. Chapter 11

Expecting the fireplaces inside the ministry to be sealed, and not knowing what other surprises to expect, Harry had already cast a Protego totalum before arriving, and was ready to cast a number of spells right away, but a simple blasting spell took care of the seal, and any protective spells there had been. It seemed, Umbridge's handiwork was as sloppy as one would expect. Harry stepped out of the fireplace and saw the others do the same.

The Atrium was empty and almost completely dark; darker than it had been that night in Harry's fifth year, right after he had watched Sirius fall through the Veil. He used to think the Atrium would never seem so gloomy to him as it had back then. But the golden fountain was gone, and not a single being was to be seen in the huge entrance, which was usually full of people. There was also another quality to the emptiness and darkness, something pervasive and menacing. The dementors were not far away.

Before that thought had properly registered, Harry had already cast his patronus, Hermione and Ron not far behind. In the dim light of the patronuses he could see Mr. Weasley working on the fireplace he had come out of.

They had no time to relax, for almost at once the darkness around them seemed to grow, blurring the edges around them, until it seemed to be surrounding them, an impenetrable, solid thing.

Harry sent his patronus farther into the room to see what was going on, and they saw the dementors creeping in from all directions. In an instant, it was several degrees colder, and they could feel the draining presence of the foul beings despite their patronuses.

They huddled together, as close as possible to Mr. Weasley, the three patronuses protecting them from the remaining three directions. All they could do was wait and hope it would not take long. Mr. Weasley was hurrying as much as he could. Harry could hear him moving around and casting charms, and from time to time, cursing under his breath. The time dragged, and the only thing left to do was stand there and try to hold on to their happy thoughts while the dementors kept filling up the Atrium.

Despite his best efforts, the dementors were starting to get to Harry, and he kept imagining all the things that could go wrong. It was not long, and he started looking around wildly, unable to fight the paranoia.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry noticed movement not far from the reception desk. For a moment he thought his mind was starting to play tricks on him, until he saw more and more dementors gather around that spot. His heart sank. If that was a snatcher – and Harry knew nothing would distract the dementors from their prey except another human – then Umbridge would find out they were here much sooner than they could afford. Snape's warning came back to him and he realized he had to act.

He turned to his friends. "I saw something move over there." He pointed to the lift.

"Harry, I'm sure it was nothing. With all the dementors there-" Hermione broke off, realizing what a strange thing she was observing. A moment later she came to the same conclusion as Harry. "Oh, no! Harry, we have to do something!"

"Yes. I'll go check it out. Do you think you can hold them at bay without me?"

"Us? What about you?" exclaimed Ron. "If you think you can just walk over there-"

"I'll be fine."

"Mate, you're bonkers. You-" He broke off when Harry started to move. "Hey! Come back!"

But Harry was not listening. He concentrated on his patronus with all the force he could muster, and the thus strengthened stag charged at the dementors in front of him, flinging them to the side. Harry followed in its trail as fast as he could, before the dementors could close in on him from behind. He hid behind the reception desk as soon as he reached it, his stag walking up and down in front of him.

He took a few breaths, to gather his strength. Then he was on his feet again, hurrying towards the lifts. He called the one he saw moving and waited for the golden grille in front of him to move aside. It clattered open at once. He was not too late, the lift had not moved. Before he could think how strange that was, he heard a distinct high-pitched cry, and a moment later, he was looking at the panicked face of Elphias Doge.

It was difficult to say which of them was more relieved to see the other. They kept asking questions at the same time, and still had no answers by the time Harry had managed to shut the door. He turned to Doge.

"You know what's happening, then?"

"Know? Of course I know! I barely made it out of there, only to be chased by dementors. I managed to get inside the lift, and I thought once I got to the Atrium-" He broke off, fear visible on his face. "I don't know how I managed to close the door fast enough..."

Harry stared at the old man. There was something missing in the picture. Then it came to him. Doge was not holding his wand. "You really should keep hold of your wand. What with all the dementors-"

"Don't you think I would if I still had it?" the old man asked indignantly. "They took all our wands."

Harry thought fast. They did not know where exactly the ministry workers were held. Their plan did not go further than getting everyone inside the ministry. If they just went looking for Umbridge once everyone had arrived, Umbridge would have plenty of time to prepare for an attack. And she would be holding all the ministry workers hostage who did not even have their wands.

Making a split-second decision, he said: "Can you take me to where you came from?"

"No, no, Harry. You can't just charge in there! We have to get out of here, we have to warn someone-"

"The Order already knows. People are on their way," said Harry. "But I need to see what exactly is going on. Please, we need to hurry-"

"Well, if you say so... All right," said Doge, still unconvinced.

Harry concentrated on his patronus. He had never sent a message with it before, and was not sure how well it would work. He felt it move away from the lift door, towards Ron and Hermione, and willed it to deliver his message, telling his friends what he was up to. His patronus vanished a moment later, and he could feel the dementors gather outside the lift, drawing ragged breaths, and he decided it was time to go. Elphias Doge pressed a button and the lift started to move. They both felt instant relief as they got farther and farther away from the dementors.

While they were on their way, Doge recounted what had happened: "We let our guard down, you see? We fought off Thicknesse, and his cronies, and the few Death Eaters who had stayed in the ministry, instead of joining the battle. And then we heard you'd won, that you-know-who was dead, and in no time we'd named a temporary minister. It was all going so well, you see... And we let our guard down...

"It all happened very quickly. I don't know how they got inside the ministry so fast, but suddenly the whole building was swarming with dementors, and we were surrounded by those vile thugs — snatchers, and Death Eaters, and whatnot—"

"Some of the Death Eaters are here?" asked Harry worriedly. "I thought this was mostly done by Umbridge."

"I'm not sure. I only saw Rookwood. There may not be any other Death Eaters. Umbridge was the last to arrive, I know that. She only let her ugly face show once she was sure it was safe.

"They took us to the House of the Wizengamot Chamber — I mean, the audacity of it — dragged us all — every single person in the ministry — into the Chamber at wandpoint. The snatchers took our wands at the entrance, and once we were all in there, they closed the doors.

"Then, Umbridge, flanked by a couple of brutish snatchers, pushed her way through the crowd, to the front of the Chamber. The snatchers fired a few curses at random, to make themselves heard. Once it was quiet, Umbridge started giving a speech. Her first words were: 'This has gone far enough. Nobody will leave until order has been re-established.' Well, you can guess what she meant by that. She wants the Wizengamot to elect her as the Chief Warlock."

The lift stopped, and a disembodied voice announced that they had reached Level 10. They got out and Harry cast a patronus before following Doge. The dementors had no problems sensing them and he could already feel them approaching. "That hasn't happened yet, has it?" he went back to their former topic.

"No! No, no. That isn't going to happen as easily as she thinks. The Wizengamot won't allow her to-"

"Mr. Doge, there are dementors around, and they can't defend themselves-"

"The Wizengamot has other protections. There's lots of magic involved, deliberate, as well as ancient, tied to the very walls of that Chamber."

"That didn't help much when Thicknesse took charge."

Doge looked almost as hurt at this as he had at Muriel's remarks about Dumbledore. "Well, I – I can't argue with that. If you'd told me a few years ago that the ministry would fall so easily, I would never have believed it. But-"

"Really?" asked Harry. He did not want to upset Doge any more, but he found the man's trust in the ministry naïve, to say the least. " For as long as I've known it, it always seemed corrupted. If people like Malfoy could bribe everyone and always get their way-"

"But Malfoy was never a member of the Wizengamot! He couldn't be. There are vows involved, a magical contract is created when one becomes a member of the Wizengamot, and it is binding. We are bound to laws, to the principles of the government, to the – well, to the will of the people."

Harry's expression was clearly saying that he did not believe a word of it.

"You are sceptical," said Doge. "And it makes sense that you would be. But answer this: Why do you think Rookwood and the snatchers are obeying Umbridge? She's not exactly the most powerful of the lot."

Harry had been wondering the same thing, and did not have an answer.

"I'll tell you why," Doge went on. "It's because she's the only member of the Wizengamot there. It's easier to have her elected because of that. There's magic involved during the election as well, you see? Even if the other members feel they don't have a choice, their will, their wishes, will still influence the election." His tone turned more sober the more he talked, until he fell silent. "Rookwood knows all of this, of course, what with him being an Unspeakable," he went on bitterly.

Harry remembered that Rookwood was the Death Eater who had duelled Fred, and he was hit with a sudden burst of hatred towards that man.

Suddenly Doge stopped, and turned to the wall.

"What-" Harry noticed the almost mischievous smile on the man's face. "Why did you stop?"

"I stopped because here's the entrance." At Harry's disbelieving look, he smiled even wider. "I told you, the Wizengamot has its own protections. How do you think I made it out of there? I was standing next to a wall, and I noticed this exit, almost like a secret passage – and it had turned up out of nowhere. I had never noticed it before, I don't think it even existed before. No one else seemed able to see it, either, almost as if it had a Notice-Me-Not charm cast on it."

Harry threw on his Invisibility Cloak and followed Doge through the hidden entrance. A moment later, he found himself on the outer edge of a huge theatre style room, with the seats arranged in a U-shape. In the front there were a few elevated seats, facing the U. That was where he saw Umbridge, Rookwood, and a few snatchers standing as guards. Others were walking between the seats, trying to keep an eye on and intimidate their captives.

Rookwood was giving a speech at the moment. For an instant Harry stood there, transfixed, and listened. He was not the only one. Rookwood made for a much better speaker than Umbridge, at least. Everyone was paying attention. He was talking about how in such troubled times one did not know whom to trust, and what to believe. He made it sound like they were not held prisoners, but were actually going to make a choice.

Harry finally snapped out of it, and started moving towards the front of the Chamber. He must not be heard by anyone, not even the people he was attempting to save. One mistake, and he would draw attention to himself, and he would give himself away. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, and he wondered why people could not hear it. He was getting close to the front seats. Then he was only a few feet away from Rookwood.

There! Next to one of the snatchers guarding Umbridge he saw them. The wands were all crammed together inside an open bag, which had been carelessly thrown to the ground. Harry held his breath and started to move towards it. Finally, he stood next to it. The next moment he had thrown his Cloak over it. This had been the easy part. Now he had to get away as fast as possible, before someone's attention finally snapped away from Rookwood's speech and turned to the wands. But the slightest noise, and he would draw attention to the very thing he wanted to hide most: the missing wands.

H carefully picked up the bag. The wands moved so very slightly against each other, and he froze. Rookwood was still talking, saying how Umbridge was the natural choice, because the dementors were obeying her, recognizing that she was already holding the power. Harry had heard enough, he pressed the bag tightly against his chest and started going back. He went all the way back to Doge, and told him in whispers what he had done.

Doge could barely contain his excitement. "Brilliant! What are you planning to do next?"

"I'm going to return the wands."

"Yes, of course. Mine's oak, ten and a half-"

"No, that won't do," said Harry. For a moment, he had started looking for Doge's wand, but at the slightest clatter of the wands he gave up on that idea. He picked out the first wand on top and gave it to Doge. "We're going to pass them around. You pass it on if it's not yours, and keep your own wand when it reaches you. Got it?"

Doge nodded. And Harry began the very drawn-out, not to mention hazardous, task of returning the wands. The most difficult part was that each person had to explain to their neighbours what was going on, without attracting attention.

Suddenly Umbridge stood up from her seat. Harry's heart clenched. She must have noticed something, he thought. He had not even passed on half the wands. But he had to act, before Umbridge alerted all the snatchers. He drew his own wand.

"Where are the dementors?" Umbridge asked around.

Harry relaxed his hold on his wand. That had been close. If he had acted, it might have ended badly. Then he noticed that he could not feel the dementors anywhere near him. They must now all have left for the Atrium, he thought, and briefly wondered how his friends were doing. Then he realized his opponents were about to figure out that they had company.

Harry began to hurry. He went back to giving out wands. Then, when he saw Rookwood turn to Umbridge, and the two of them started to talk quietly, he passed the bag to Doge. All the snatchers' attention was now to the front, and they were starting to drift towards their leaders. He had mere seconds before Rookwood and Umbridge decided what to do.

Harry snuck to the closest snatcher to him, and confounded him. Then he moved to the next one, all the while moving towards the front as well. He had dealt with a couple more before he reached Rookwood.

"No worries, I've called the dementors back, they'll be here in a minute," Umbridge was saying in that annoyingly girlish voice of hers.

"Yes, and maybe we should let them have a little snack, before we send them to fight the intruders," said Rookwood.

By that time, the remaining snatchers had already gathered together, and their leaders were about to give them new instructions when they noticed the missing ones Harry had confounded.

"What is the meaning of this!" roared Rookwood, and pointed his wand blindly towards his captives.

But before he could curse anyone, Harry threw off his Invisibility Cloak.

"You!" spat Rookwood.

"Yes, me. And not just me. You are surrounded. It would be better if you gave up now."

"And where are all those others? You are the only one in here, you puny little tramp. You don't stand a chance against all of us, and I for one, am going to enjoy-"

But Harry never did find out what he was planning to enjoy, because the members of the Wizengamot behind him chose that moment to stand up and point their regained wands at Rookwood.

The room was suddenly charged with tension, and nobody was moving. The two groups had separated, and were facing each other with their wands drawn, Harry leading his side and Rookwood leading the opposite one. The snatchers were heavily outnumbered, but they were all fighters. It was not at all clear how that was going to end.

And then something finally went right. The door was suddenly blasted open behind the snatchers, and Harry's reinforcement arrived, headed by Ron and Hermione, who instantly started scolding him for taking off and not explaining properly what he was up to.

By the time Shacklebolt and the aurors arrived, they had restrained everyone, and were keeping the dementors firmly in check. The minister – and was it not a feat that they could still call him that? – then took charge of everything, and by the time Harry finally felt it was safe to leave, even the dementors had accepted Shacklebolt as the one in charge.

With the last of his strength, Harry made it to his old Gryffindor dormitory, fell into his bed, and passed out.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry for the hiatus. But I'll get back to regular updates from now on (I think).**

Harry dreamed. For a long time he was not aware of that fact though. He did not remember the first few hours of completely mindless sleep, nor the following hours interrupted by terrifying nightmares, which only came to an end once Ron had shaken him awake, himself pulled out of sleep by Harry's cries. He returned to sleep immediately, never even realizing that Ron had woken him up.

He dreamed of things he had seen and experienced, of the horrors of the last days that had burned themselves into his mind, and would likely remain there for as long as he lived; but also of his fears, his waking nightmares, that were only enhanced now that he had no way to fight them. For a long time the darkness seemed impenetrable.

Slowly, his dreams began to shift, become less nightmarish. he kept waking up, and the world inside him and around him seemed to brighten.

He did not know what time it was when he, at last, woke up. He had slept for a long time, that much he was aware of. There were so many things that needed taking care of, so many things he had to do. He did not even know where he was going to stay. But he just could not bring himself to abandon the comfort of his warm bed. Finally, he forced himself to get up and went to the bathroom. What weird dreams he had had, he thought when he came back. No place to stay. Really. His bed was right there. He snuggled up under his covers and went back to sleep.

The next time he woke up to the most curious sensation. It almost felt like something was tickling him, and his disjointed dreams shifted to one of a butterfly that kept fluttering all over his face, its wings brushing his eyes, his cheeks, his lips... He tried to evade it, but was a very annoying butterfly, landing exactly where he least expected it, and the sun seemed to be flickering through its wings... He opened his eyes. Ginny was straightening up from where she had been leaning over him, wearing a mischievous smile. Had she been kissing him?

"Good morning, Harry," she said with laughter in her voice. "Though it won't be morning for much longer. It's almost noon."

"Noon!" Harry sat up, and looked around the empty dorm.

"Hermione and Ron slept for ages, too. Went to bed almost as early as you did. But even they managed to get up by now."

"How long did I...?"

"Fourteen hours. At least. Probably more. We wanted to wait for you, so we could have breakfast together. But then it looked like you wouldn't get up until lunch anyway."

"I could do with some breakfast," said Harry at the same time as his stomach rumbled, and he remembered that he had not eaten a decent meal for more than twenty-four hours, not since breakfast in the Great Hall the day before. During lunchtime he had rushed to the ministry to deal with Umbridge the Toad, and when he had come back, sleep had seemed so much more important than food.

"Kreacher thought so, too," said Ginny, and produced a tray with a full breakfast on it.

Harry started to inhale the food at once, barely managing a thank-you.

Ginny watched the less-than-sophisticated display for a moment. "Do keep in mind that mum wants to feed you, too. She cooked all your favourites and brought them here. First she wanted to cook in the school kitchens, but the house elves kept trying to help her."

"What, she actually went to the Burrow for that?"

"Yep. Wouldn't tell us what state it's in, though. But at least the kitchen seems to have survived, if she cooked up all the things she brought with her there. She's ben casting warming spells and waiting for you to wake up since then. I don't think she'll last much longer, though. She'll be sending Ron soon to wake you up, I think." She trailed off at the end.

"I'm glad it was you instead," said Harry.

Ginny smiled at him. She started telling him what everybody had been up to since the evening before. She kept her tales light and entertaining, away from all serious matters, which he was only too happy about. He did not want to disrupt his comfortable morning with all the things he had to worry about.

After she left to give him some privacy, he decided it was time to clean up. He called Kreacher and had him bring him his magical razor, toiletries, a bathing towel and a change of clothes. Armed like that, he went to face the mirror. The insults started before he had even taken a proper look, and Harry wondered who had thought talking mirrors to be a good idea. More importantly, he wondered why Ginny had not run away screaming after seeing him. He would not have blamed her.

The way he looked was hardly surprising, though. He had not bathed or showered since they had left Shell Cottage, and a Scourgify could only do so much. He had not shaved for a few days, either. His hair was ridiculously overgrown as it had not been cut since summer. Hair that almost reached his collar should be able to lie flat, Harry thought despairingly, at the sight of the dirty, matted mop on his head that was sticking up in all directions. The t-shirt he had worn to sleep was old and worn beyond its endurance. It was frayed, with a few holes in it and hung loosely on his bony frame.

Once he was properly cleaned and groomed again, he went back to the mirror. With his hair tied he would have looked almost passable, if not for his eyes. They looked sunken and haunted. And when had he aged so much?

He almost fled back to his bed, but he forced himself to open the door and walk down the stairs to the Common Room.

He was met with an odd sight. Despite the warm spring weather, there was a big fire in the fireplace. His two best friends were sitting together in one armchair, which had been placed next to the fireplace, but turned so that they could still see the stairs leading to the dormitories. Bot of them were eating chocolate. Many of the remaining Gryffindor students, as well as most of Ron's family were also there.

Mr Weasley was telling something, and Harry could hear a few chuckles here and there. The whole scene could ave been out of a dream. It resembled someone's childhood memory, cosy and clean, fun and happy. It filled Harry with a melancholy longing, and he felt he could never be too close to them.

Ron saw him first when he got closer. Everyone else's attention was towards the sitting couple, as Hermione seemed in the middle of some sort of explanation or argument, if her animated gestures were any indication.

Harry could not remember the last time he had seen his friends so relaxed. They both had cleaned up as well. Ron had shaved, and Hermione's hair had been tamed a little. They almost looked like their one year younger selves.

Harry watched as each face around him went from surprised to pleased at seeing him. There was something else there, in their eyes, something deeper, that varied from person to person.

"We were just going over all the things that happened yesterday," Mr Weasley told him.

"Anything interesting happen after I left?" asked Harry, remembering that he had dashed off after Doge without considering how the others would fare without him.

"Oh, nothing much," said George. "Came to the ministry, held off the dementors, tried to find where you'd gone off to, watched ickle Ronnie snog Hermione in the worst possible moment-"

Ron made a face at that. Hermione was more vocal. "You go and try to hold off that many dementors for any length of time-"

"Yeah, they do like to pick the worst possible time for their little moments..." said Harry. He could not help but add to the obviously extensive teasing his friends had received over the matter.

"Really?"

"Oh, do tell!"

Exclamations answered his comment from all sides, except for Ron, who groaned, and Hermione, who moaned: "Harry!" in an accusatory tone.

George made a tsking sound at that. "So they've been together for a while now, and none of you bothered to tell us?" He threw his arm around Harry's shoulders. "You'll have to remedy that. Now, don't leave out any details..."

Something seemed a little odd with their proportions when George was standing so close, but Harry dismissed it for the moment.

George's restored cheer was contagious. It looked no less strange, seeing him without his twin, but knowing that it would not last long almost made up for it. So Harry let himself be drawn into the cheerful banter and told a few strongly edited snippets from his best friends' history. He made sure not to include any angst and drama, and finished by telling about the couple's first kiss during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Ron and Hermione were not too happy with him, that was clear from the glares they were sending him. But he managed to make even them smile once or twice, so they could not be too angry with him.

"Did you see me standing next to George? D'you reckon I'm as tall as him now?" Harry asked his friends some time later. He was sitting in an armchair he had pushed next to them. The hilarity had settled down, allowing him to talk to them in relative privacy. He had apologised, though not very convincingly, for teasing them, and they had in turn given voice to their irritation at him.

"I think so, yeah," said Ron absent-mindedly.

"You are a tiny bit taller than him now, actually," supplied Hermione.

Harry remembered being shorter than the twins when they had polyjuiced themselves into Harry, a little over half a year ago.

"Well, yeah, I guess you've grown a little," said Ron. He obviously was not seeing why Harry thought that was a big deal.

Harry supposed if he were as tall as Ron that little difference in height would not matter much either, but as matters stood, he felt surprisingly pleased with his recent growth.

Hermione pressed some chocolate into his hand, and he started to eat it absent-mindedly. He felt warmth spread through his body, as he had the evening before when he had come back from the ministry and forced himself to eat a few bites of chocolate that Kreacher had gotten hold of for him. The dementors' influence was not completely gone yet, it seemed.

The feeling of guilt was sharp and sudden. Harry stared at his friends, who were also eating chocolate, and had not moved away from the fireplace since he had seen them. He shifted uncomfortably. He had essentially abandoned them when he decided to follow Doge, with no thought as to how they would cope against a whole army of dementors. And he knew perfectly well that Hermione still had problems with the Patronus charm from time to time.

"Listen," Harry began hesitantly. "About yesterday. What happened after I left?"

Hermione exchanged a look with Ron, who muttered under his breath: "Here we go."

"Nothing much," said Hermione in a deliberately light tone. "Mr Weasley got the fireplace going shortly after you left, and then the others kept coming one after the other. The dementors bothered us less with each new Patronus. We set out to find you as soon as everyone had arrived."

"But what about before? When it was just the two of you against all those dementors, and I... Look, I'm sor-"

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted him, and her tone sounded both amused and exasperated. "We're fine. We were fine. It was you who rushed towards danger-"

"Again," interjected Ron, equally exasperated.

"Exactly!" went on Hermione. "You always have to take matters into your own hands at the last moment-"

"And play the effing hero," finished Ron.

"So that's how you see it." Harry tried to look annoyed, but he could not suppress the grin. "Well, then. If you won't let me apologise, fine. I have better things to do, anyway. I'm going to laze around all day. I won't move an inch if I don't have to." At those words he snuggled into his seat, ready to doze off.

"Actually, Harry, we were about to go to Diagon Alley," said Hermione.

"We were waiting to see if you wanted to come along," added Ron.

"Diagon Alley? Whatever did you want to go there for?"

"To buy new wands. I don't think we'll be seeing our old wands any time soon, and I want to get rid of Bellatrix' wand as soon as I can."

Harry, who remembered that he could use some money out of his account, decided to go along after all, and the three friends left Hogwarts, walking slowly towards Hogsmeade.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione and Ron started debating where to apparate to as soon as they were off Hogwarts grounds. They did not want to use the official apparition points as they did not know what state they were in. With all the recent events, they also did not want to apparate directly into the Alley and attract everyone's attention around them. That left the muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry, on the other hand, really was not looking forward to apparating. It was embarrassing to admit even to himself, but he simply did not feel up to it. He was still too weakened and fatigued. Not so much that he might splinch himself, though. If he had been feeling that bad, at least he would have had a proper excuse. As it was, though, it took him a while to convince himself to speak up. "Listen, couldn't we just take the Knight Bus?" he finally asked his friends.

Great, thought Harry a second later, as he was confronted with Hermione's openly concerned expression, and Ron's deliberately oblivious one that was hiding his concern. He should not have said anything.

"Of course, Harry," Hermione said softly.

Ron frowned. "The Knight Bus? Don't you mean the Dame Bus?"

"The what?"

"You know," Ron started to explain at Harry's confused expression. "The Knight Bus drives during the night. And the Dame Bus-"

"-drives during the day," Harry finished with a groan, finally catching up.

"Yep."

"Couldn't they think of any cheesier names?" Harry chuckled.

"I guess not. But they sure gave it a try."

By the time they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron Harry was no longer sure the bus had been such a great idea. He did not recognize either the driver or the conductor, which made sense as he had never been on the Dame Bus before. But a part of him had expected to see Stan Shunpike, which reminded him of the last time he had met him. Harry could not help but wonder what had happened to the conductor of the Knight Bus. Besides, being thrown about at every turn could not be that much better than apparating. Especially once Harry landed on the floor after a sudden stop, much to Ron's amusement.

There was another thing that bothered him. It had somehow slipped his mind that the reason he was going to London to get money out of the bank was because he was out of money. So it happened that for the first time in their shared history Ron had the most money (that he had just borrowed from his parents, but nevertheless). Feeling generous, he bought all of the tickets.

Both the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley were disturbingly empty and could have done with some cleaning up. Gringotts loomed over its neighbouring buildings, forbidding, intimidating despite the visible damage it had taken.

"Maybe we should get our wands first," decided Hermione after they had stared at it indecisively for a while.

"Good idea," agreed Harry. It was better not to take any chances, considering how their last visit to the bank had gone.

Ollivander's was the one place in Diagon Alley that was not lacking visitors. The building itself was, not unexpectedly, in a bad condition. Ollivander had been forcefully taken away from there months ago, months in which no one had looked after the shop. They could see at first glance that everything was in disarray. The small boxes that had always lined the walls were all missing. Instead, several baskets were standing around Ollivander, who was sorting a huge pile of wands in front of him into those baskets. There were a couple of official looking people, which Harry guessed to be from the ministry. They were helping Ollivander with whatever he told them to do.

They were also keeping the visitors in check. Masses of people were standing outside, completely concealing the front of the shop. There seemed to be all sorts, but the majority of them were haggard, clad in tatters, ill-looking. It took the three friends a while to realize those were muggle-borns who had gone through the Muggle-Born Registration Commission.

Only a few people were allowed in at a time, and it would have been hours before they would have reached Ollivander, but as soon as they were recognized, everyone insisted they go in first.

Ollivander was pleased to see them, and told them so. Despite the amount of work he was faced with he seemed in his element. In fact, he seemed more alive than Harry had ever seen him at Shell Cottage. He explained to them that the wands he was sorting had been collected from different places: the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, snatchers, found on Hogwarts grounds, left after the battle. Thinking how the wands could have ended up in any of those places caused a feeling of cold dread to wash over Harry. Ollivander did not seem bothered, though. He only seemed pleased to be working with his wands again.

"Mr Ollivander," Hermione began, "I'm sure you remember the state of our wands. We," she pointed at herself and Ron, "lost ours, and-"

"And Mr Potter's was unfortunately damaged," finished Ollivander.

"But it was soon repaired, though," interjected Harry, before Ollivander could say more.

The old wandmaker's piercing gaze turned to Harry. He was not likely to forget their conversation about the Elder Wand, and it only took him a moment to realize what Harry's comment meant. His expression turned to awe. Harry started to worry how noticeable it was, but Ollivander caught on at once.

"Ah, yes, of course, Mr Potter. May I have a look at it? One should always be extra careful with a wand that was damaged."

A little reluctantly, Harry handed over his wand.

The wandmaker examined it slowly, and Harry was dismayed to notice that his hands were shaking. Again Harry wondered how strange this must look to everybody else.

"It seems in excellent condition, Mr Potter. It should serve you well for years to come." Ollivander started to return the wand. "Especially as it is such an excellent fit for you-" There he paused, and turned to the ministry employees. He gestured towards the door. A moment later the shop was empty save for Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ollivander.

"That wasn't necessary," began Harry, a little annoyed, as soon as he had his wand back. "I don't even have it with me-"

Ollivander drew in a sharp breath. "You... So it is in your possession?"

Harry felt his friends' gazes directed at him. "Not for much longer. And I feel the less is said about it, the better." He looked out the window at the people standing there, waiting.

"I see." The old wandmaker sighed. "Let us discuss your wands, then. It is always better to do it in private, but with everything that has happened..." He trailed off, and gestured to the waiting people outside.

"Yes, let's hurry up," said Hermione, who seemed very uncomfortable with their special treatment.

"Ah, Ms Granger. I have good news for you. I found your wand almost undamaged. The little that needed to be done has already been taken care of." Ollivander moved around the pile of wands and the baskets, and from somewhere around there he produced a wand which he handed over to Hermione. "Vine and dragon heartstring, 10¾ inches, good as new. Please try it."

Hermione did. And Harry could empathize with the instant happiness on her face. Having one's own wand was something else. A moment later she frowned. "But shouldn't it have changed its allegiance?"

"It has. But most wands," Ollivander emphasized the 'most', making it obvious which wand was to be excluded, "don't abandon their old owners that easily. They may obey whoever has won them, but they will still work for the witch or wizard they first chose. In no time at all, you will have its full allegiance back, I have no doubt."

Hermione went for her purse next. "You said you repaired it-"

"No, no, Ms Granger," Ollivander interrupted her. "Please. It was the least I could do."

Hermione had nothing left to do but thank him.

"What about my wand?" Ron was the next to ask. "Did you find it as well?"

"I did find it, yes. But I'm afraid it is beyond repair. At least with ordinary means," he amended, looking expectantly at Harry.

"I'll be buying a new one, then," said Ron, who knew that his friend had no wish to use the Elder Wand ever again. Harry shot him a grateful look.

Ollivander looked a little disappointed with the answer, but gestured them to follow him into the storage room. There they saw the wand boxes that were missing from the main room, haphazardly stacked on shelves.

"These were all the wands we were able to recover," Ollivander told them. "After they... took me away... they confiscated all my wands. But now the new minister had them returned. At least the ones they could find. Who knows what has happened to the others..."

So those were the only new wands left. There did not seem to be nearly as many as there had been the first time Harry had sat foot in Ollivander's shop.

Meanwhile, the wandmaker had already begun measuring Ron, and was eagerly building a small pile of wands in front of him, for him to try.

Ron had only gone through a few of them when Ollivander stopped him, and with a flick of his own wand put them all back in their places. Now he seemed truly happy.

"Oh, so that's what happened," he said with laughter in his voice. "Interesting, yes, yes, very interesting. Quite unusual..." And he went on to produce another pile in front of a bewildered Ron.

Neither Harry nor Hermione knew any better what Ollivander was thinking, and they both shrugged their shoulders at their friend's questioning look.

It took Ron a little longer to go through the second pile. He had discarded more than half the wands before he came across one that even he himself felt would be the one. He waved it a little, and sparks flew from its tip.

Ollivander nodded, confirming that the wand had chosen Ron. "Ash and unicorn hair, fourteen inches. It's not that uncommon to change the wood one's wand is made of. As one matures – especially as a child... But to change the wood twice in five years – That in itself would be... But then, you didn't really change the wood this time, you went back to your first choice."

Ron looked rather uncomfortable, hearing that. "So back to ash, is it? Didn't work that well for me the first time..."

"No, no, Mr Weasley, I'm sure this wand will serve you well. As for your first wand... _The ash wand cleaves to its one true master and ought not to be passed on or gifted from the original owner, _Mr Weasley,_ because it will lose power and skill. This tendency is extreme if the core is of unicorn_. [1]"

Ron was not enjoying the reminder that his first wand had been a hand-me-down from his older brother, because his parents could not afford a new one.

But Ollivander did not seem to notice, as he went on: "Had the wand been new, it would have been a different matter. It was quite well-suited to you. Your mother even told me that ash corresponds to your date of birth. And as you know, it's especially lucky to be chosen by such a wood. Now that you seem to have gotten over your insecurities, and are closer to your true potential, willow is no longer-"

"Woods can correspond to one's date of birth?" asked Hermione, unable to contain her curiosity.

She had completely missed the effect Ollivander's words had on Ron, who was about ready to leave, feeling creeped out by the wandmaker's eerie way of telling his personality based on his wands.

"You have never heard of the Celtic tree calendar?"

Hermione blushed at Ollivander's question, embarrassed that for once, she did not know something. She shook her head. "I'm born on the 19th of September. What wood corresponds to that?"

Ollivander's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "That would be vine, Ms Granger, the wood of your wand. As ash is Mr Weasley's and holly is Mr Potter's... Very interesting, indeed, especially if one considers the three different cores... This – this... connection between you – you were not aware of it?"

They shook their heads.

"That would explain... Willow is such an excellent wood, very powerful. And yet, it did not seem quite right for you. Of course, if you wanted to pull away from your friends – to destroy the connection between you – to stand on your own – and that was the main reason for the change of wood-"

They practically fled the shop after that, dragging Hermione after them, who would have been only too happy to stay and ask a dozen more questions about what it all meant.

**A/N: [1] - This is taken from the Harry Potter Wiki**


	14. Chapter 14

"-And I just wanted to set things straight!" Frustration was slowly starting to creep into Sirius' voice even if it was tinged with amusement.

Remus, sitting opposite him, loaded a generous amount of chocolate ice cream on his spoon and then stuffed it into his mouth with a frown that the delicious treat certainly did not deserve. Sirius knew right away he was doing it to give himself a moment to formulate his argument. Typical Moony, he thought, and it brought a knowing smile to his lips, which turned into a smirk as soon as Remus noticed it, realised he had been caught, and glared at him.

"Padfoot," he began, running a hand through his hair, all seriousness now, dropping all the banter and good-natured bickering, the weariness reasserting itself on his face, "it's only been a day since the war ended, since you returned-"

"I know that-"

"Sure you do. That's why you're acting like you're still at Grimmauld Place, picking a fight with Snape the first chance-"

"Bollocks! I hated it at Grimmauld Place. Being back at Hogwarts, celebrating our victory – not exactly the same, wouldn't you say?"

"That's my point! Everything's changed and you don't have any excuses now to go and—"

"I didn't pick a fight with Snape!" Sirius, noticing his voice had gotten louder, stopped.

They were the only two people sitting outside Fortescue's. Only a couple of people could be seen hurrying to whatever business they had farther down the Alley. Even inside the shop there was only Florean's grandson, trying to get the place ready for business again, diligently running around the place; and a single customer, an old Ministry witch come to settle her nerves with familiar comfort. Though a fortifying drink – like firewhisky – would have done her a lot better, thought Sirius.

Satisfied that they were not making a spectacle of themselves, Sirius turned back to Remus. "I didn't pick a fight with Snape," he said in a much calmer voice. "Look, Moony, things have changed, I get that. Snape's not as bad as he could have been. I believe that now. I mean, I believe Harry. But I wasn't here last year. I didn't think him a traitor and curse his name every chance I got as you lot seem to have done. I didn't come to hate him for something he didn't do, and I don't feel that irrational remorse on his behalf as a consequence. I can't stand him, yes, but the reasons I despise him for are all real. They are the same reasons I had two years ago, and they haven't changed. All right, yes, he did help win the war, and he did protect Harry. He gets lots of bonus points for that. But I won't have him fling false accusations at me-"

"So it was true, what you said back there?" Remus asked very quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Silence fell between them for a long moment.

Remus, realising what he had asked, backtracked at once. "No, Sirius, I didn't mean... I—I remember you telling me that right after... And I did believe you!" Remus looked up, searching his friend's eyes, but now it was Sirius looking away, to avoid his gaze. "I did believe you," he went on, his voice subdued, "but then you were feeling so wretched, and you kept apologising. I believed that you were really sorry, that you felt guilty... And I didn't..."

"Yes, I see," Sirius finally said.

"Sirius..." Remus did not think he saw anything at all. Why was it so difficult to talk about these things? Surely, after so many years...

"So you forgave me, even though you thought I had wanted to murder Snape." Sirius' tone was very matter-of-fact.

Remus looked down, but then he sat back, finally holding Sirius' gaze. "If he knew – If he already suspected-"

"He was taunting me with his suspicions. Told me how it wouldn't take him long to find proof-"

"And you – You dared him to come and face me – for his evidence," Remus concluded slowly, recalling the way Sirius used to be as a teenager, how he would have responded to Snape's taunts.

"He always had to pick on you, to single you out. Because he sensed some weakness in you, or maybe he noticed how protective we were of you-"

"We used to single him out, as well."

"Prongs and I did, not you. Well, we did go after him more than the others – with him, it was almost a game. Not that the others ever helped him. But he still followed them around whenever they went terrorising muggleborns, or whatever else they did. And he always wanted to get us into trouble, to find any weakness he could use against us. Especially you. But your weakness wasn't much of a weakness, was it? And him, sneaking around, trying to expel us – Looking for evidence, was he? Well, I thought, if he was trying so hard to expel you, he should at least have the guts to face you."

Remus sighed. "And of course he had to go through with it after that. He wouldn't have anyone call him a coward."

"What idiot tries to face a werewolf alone, in a confined space? Especially a fifth year! What did he think would have happened?"

Remus was staring at his tray, shifting around the melting ice cream with his spoon, and not taking in what he was doing.

"You're right, of course," Sirius went on quietly. "Snape was just that sort of idiot. Prongs could tell, as well. He had a bad feeling about it as soon as I told him. I tried to pass it off as a joke, but he..."

He did not have to finish. They both remembered perfectly what had happened after that.

"I think you feared Snape would react the way he did. That's why you told Prongs, so he would do something about it. You always went to him to get you out of sticky situations."

They both fell silent after that, lost in their own thoughts.

"Look, Moony," began Sirius after a while, his voice rough, "I know I've said it before, but I really wish I'd never-"

"Don't, Padfoot. You've apologised enough," Remus interrupted him.

That was another thing about Sirius. He had always been more handsome, more talented – more privileged – than the people around him; always above the ordinary, always the rebel – Apologies had not come naturally to him. But when he did take the blame for something, he did it properly, and never tried to shift his blame onto others. And his willingness to apologise, to make up for it, to never stop feeling guilty, often made it more difficult to have constructive conversations about those things.

That incident with Snape had rarely come up in their discussions over the years, and whenever it did, Sirius never failed to apologise, even though Remus had forgiven him a long time ago. What had been more difficult, he had finally convinced Sirius that he was forgiven.

It had briefly come up again after Sirius' break out from Azkaban. They had both been blaming themselves for distrusting each other. Sirius' betrayal had seemed more believable because of his prank on Snape. That had occurred to both of them, but Remus had been quick to quash that line of thought as soon as Sirius tried to bring it up, doing his best to reassure his friend that the incident was behind them.

Only when Snape had brought it up had Sirius defended himself, even going so far as to make Snape admit that he had suspected beforehand that Remus was a werewolf.

"Why didn't you make me understand how it really happened?" Remus asked softly.

"That first time I told you about it-"

"I thought it was an excuse. You must have realised I didn't believe a word of it! I was so angry-"

"Yes, I know that. But you said that it didn't matter even if it had happened the way I told it, because – because either way I had betrayed you. And you were right. Snape may not have all that much right to hold a grudge against me after all these years, but that doesn't change what I did to you. Snape was looking for evidence to expel you and I gave it to him. I gave away your secret. And if it had ended badly, it wouldn't have mattered to you whether or not Snape had had his own stupidity to thank for it."

Vain and arrogant, even in his nobility, that was Sirius. If he admitted to having made a mistake, he would abide by it, and not defend himself, not look for excuses, convinced that he deserved more punishment than lesser mortals would in his place.

That proud look in Sirius' eyes as he explained himself – how long ago had it been that he had last seen it? Remus felt a sudden irrepressible urge to hug his friend. Sirius must have guessed his intention, for he smiled a rueful smile, filled with memories of old, and a jolt passed between them, an understanding that they knew each other like no one else knew them.

Sirius had to interrupt the moment, of course. "And that's why Snape's a git for giving away that you're a werewolf when you were a professor," he said airily.

"That might have something to do with me helping you get away." Remus' tone was light as well.

"Yes, such a shame I didn't let the dementors kiss me."

Just then, a strange thought occurred to Remus. "Actually, Padfoot, it saved me a lot of trouble that people found out. You got away in very suspicious circumstances, and a lot of people would have suspected my involvement. But then everyone knew that I had transformed and was roaming the forest, and that gave me a watertight alibi." He thought back to Sirius' exchange with Snape that morning. "You know, I think Snape almost told you the same thing when you brought that up, before he lost it and started shouting obscenities at you. Sirius, you don't think...?"

The very idea that Snape might have considered that before 'letting it slip' that Remus was a werewolf – that he might (albeit in a nasty, vindictive way) have knowingly helped Remus was so preposterous that it made Sirius cringe. "No, Moony, don't think that!" he said in a dramatic way.

Remus shook his head fondly at his friend's reaction, and went back to finishing his now molten ice.

But the thought, once thought, would not be gotten rid of that easily.

"Fortescue's. Excellent idea." George's voice made both Marauders jump. It was because they had gone back to keeping an eye on Gringotts entrance and were staring in the opposite direction that they had not noticed him approaching.

George, clearly in a good mood, got himself a chair and sat down at their table. "So. Freedom, huh? How is it working out for you so far?" he asked Sirius.

"It's wonderful, being able to choose your company," replied Sirius, pointedly staring at the uninvited guest. It was still difficult for him to see George as a grown-up. In his mind he was still a Hogwarts student, and not a very serious one, at that. How much had changed in two years, it was mind-boggling.

George, though, did not seem to mind, and was by no means deterred. "Now, now, Sirius, don't send me packing just yet. I've got a proposal for you."

"A proposal?" Remus asked interested.

Sirius merely raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, a business proposal," clarified George. "But let me get some ice cream first. Seconds, anyone?"

Remus was about to decline, but Sirius asked for him, and George disappeared inside the shop.

The Marauders exchanged bewildered looks in his absence.

George came back with two trays and sat one down in front of Remus. "It's strange, being served by someone else. And I had to carry the trays myself. It's just not the same without Florean Fortescue."

"It's not, really," Remus told him. "Without Florean, that is. That's his grandson, and his name's Florean, too, so..."

"How do you know?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "We asked him."

"Really? And he actually took the time to answer? He almost bit my head off just for ordering ice cream and interrupting whatever strange things he was doing in the store room."

"Well, we've got somewhat better people skills," said Sirius.

George dismissed that with a careless wave of his hand. "I save that for when I'm working. Useful if you're the one doing the selling, but Florean the not-quite-mature hasn't figured that out yet."

"He's a little stressed, I suppose," Remus defended him. "He wanted to open up right away, to get back to normal, I guess. I'm not sure he knows what he's doing."

"Hasn't quite figured out how to run a business yet, has he? You think he could use a few pointers?"

"Not from you, he wouldn't."

"Padfoot!" admonished Remus, even though he secretly agreed with his friend. George seemed in the mood to annoy someone, not to help.

"I resent that. I'll let you know I'm a very successful businessman."

"And so modest, too."

"Modesty is overrated. I know what I'm doing, that's what's important." He pointed his spoon at Sirius. "And I have a business proposal for you."

"All right. I'm listening."

"So, the thing is, I wanted to have some sort of surprise for Fred when he wakes up. I wanted to come up with a new product, a new best-seller for the reopening. It seemed doable, we thought he'd be out for a few weeks. But Pomfrey had a look at him again this morning, and now it looks like it might only be a few days-"

George tried to sound annoyed while saying that, but the goofy grin broke out as soon as the Marauders caught on and started with the congratulations.

"As Fred's refusing to wait for my brilliant new invention, that leaves me with very limited options," he went on to explain. "And then I thought of those enchanted mirrors you made. So, what do you think?"

"You want to sell my mirrors?"

"Well, not yours, you'd have to charm new ones-"

Sirius rolled his eyes impatiently. "Yes, I get that. But why? I thought you owned a sort of joke shop." Sirius felt once again how much he had missed in the last two years.

"It's a bit more refined than that, but essentially true."

"But you still want to sell my mirrors. Why?"

"Because I think they're going to be a success," George answered slowly. "And because if I don't sell them, someone else will come up with something similar. The thing is, the muggles invented these portable fellytones-"

"Mobile phones," Sirius corrected him.

"Huh?"

"They're called mobile phones, not 'portable fellytones'," explained Remus, who found the whole conversation rather entertaining.

"Mobile phones, then. And they're getting really popular in the muggle world. Similar things will start popping up in the magical world in no time, I just know it. Especially now, that we've won a war against muggle-haters. I want to be the first to sell a magical version of moving fellytones-"

"Mobile phones."

"Yes, yes, whatever. I think your mirrors are just the thing. They're a great idea on their own, but then there's the fact that Harry used yours to save a couple of students. People have already started talking about them." He paused, holding his breath. "So, what do you think?"

Sirius exchanged a look with Remus, who looked rather amused, and who responded with an encouraging smile to his friend's questioning look.

"All right, why not," Sirius finally answered.

George exhaled the breath he had been holding, and from one moment to the next he went into business mode. He bombarded Sirius with all sorts of questions. How long did it take to enchant mirrors? How much would it cost to make them? How long would the enchantments last? How many different people could one connect to? And simultaneously?

Sirius was quite bewildered by the change in the young man, trying his best to keep up with the questions. For the first time he was starting to see him as the successful businessman he had become in his absence. He had to admit, it was a little disconcerting.

Finally George reached the end of his questions and slowed down. "So we're set, then. We'll have to agree on the payment, but I suppose that's not a matter of urgency with you-"

"Actually-" Sirius began. Then, seeing George's confused look, he backtracked. "I'd have agreed with you this morning. But then I went to the bank to have my money transferred from Harry's back to my account, and you won't believe what those – those-"

"Now, Sirius, calm down. I'm sure it's being cleared up as we speak," Remus tried to reassure him.

"What's going on?"

"The goblins are angry with Harry and Ron and Hermione for breaking into Gringotts. And they're denying any access to Harry's vault-"

"What? They have no right! What were they thinking-"

"I know," went on Remus, his voice calm. "But as I said, it's been dealt with as we speak. Kingsley and your brother, Bill, went to talk to them, and we're here waiting for their return."

"They better make them see sense, or the goblins will have a very angry wizarding population on their hands," George said darkly.

"Remus and Sirius exchanged worried looks at that, then Sirius sighed. "I hope we'll have this cleared up before Harry and the others get here. They wanted to visit the bank today, as well. And Harry really could do without any more worries."

Just then they saw Kingsley leave the bank, and George got up to leave.

**A\N: So this was chapter 14. What did you think? Do you like how the story is developing? I have an ending planned for this story, and I'm trying to get there. But even though a lot of people still seem to be reading it (and adding it to their favourites and story alerts lists), you have more or less stopped reviewing. And I don't know any more if you're still liking it or not...**

**I'd really appreciate reviews, constructive criticism included.  
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	15. Chapter 15

The newly appointed Headmistress McGonagall was sitting behind the desk when Snape entered, and by the looks of it, she was already feeling at home there. She had gone to see the school governors that morning, to discuss with them what needed to be done to rebuild Hogwarts. First item on their list had been to instate McGonagall as headmistress. That meant that for the first time in over fifteen years, Snape no longer had an official position at the school. He was not sure how he felt about that.

"Come in, come in, Severus," McGonagall said as soon as she looked up and saw him. "Please, do sit down." There was something uncomfortably stilted in her greeting, the reason of which was only emphasized by the room they were in, by the position McGonagall now held and Snape had just left behind.

Snape looked around the room before taking a seat, expecting to see changes now that it was no longer his office. Instead, he was struck by how uncannily it looked as it had when Dumbledore had been headmaster. It seemed, it was as important to McGonagall to preserve as much of Dumbledore's old office as it was to Snape himself.

McGonagall had hidden away many of his more valuable possessions when she had heard that Snape would be taking his place. The new headmaster had wholeheartedly agreed with her decision – Who knew what the Death Eaters might have done with them. He had not mentioned at any point that he found anything missing from his new office, no matter how suspicious that had made the outspoken head of Gryffindor House. The only thing Snape had changed himself was to replace the red and gold accents of the room with more Slytherin colours.

All of Dumbledore's possessions had been returned to their place. They belonged to the school now, as had been stated in his will. The colours had also been reversed, and the office looked more like a Gryffindor's lair than ever. Snape said as much.

McGonagall's face fell. "Severus, I... I didn't want to take your position. I tried to argue with the school governors, but-"

"Really, Minerva, I thought we'd already talked about this. They were never going to allow a Death Eater to be headmaster of Hogwarts, reformed or not. Besides which, I think I made it perfectly clear to you that I don't want the position."

Snape leaned back in his seat, and cocked his head. "I'm simply saying you're trying too hard. I don't think there's a single speck of green left in the room – except for you, of course." He pointed at her green robes. "I don't know what impression you're aiming for, but it looks like you're protesting too much."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Really, Minerva, why bother? You can obviously tell as well as I which one's the more impressive colour."

"Why, you..."

Snape smirked, enjoying the headmistress' less than dignified response. The familiar banter that had existed between the heads of the rivalling Houses had changed into real hostility over the past year – at least on the Gryffindor's part. It felt revitalising to leave that behind, and to return to the way things used to be – even if it was for only a moment.

But it was enough to clear the air between them, to reassure them that the changes of power that had happened a year ago and that morning would not require any more apologies.

"When did you get back?" asked McGonagall a moment later. "I asked Poppy to keep me informed when you'd be back-"

"Just now. I came up right away."

"So, how was St. Mungo's, then?"

Snape hesitated before answering. He had visited the hospital that morning to have his throat treated. The healers' help left much to be desired, as he could feel the wounds itching through the pain medication and the heavy bandages. Much more uncomfortable than that had been the general response to his presence, the chilly welcome he had received. It turned out that though people had no difficulties believing that he had been a Death Eater, many found it more difficult to swallow that he had actually been a spy. Snape was well aware that the only thing that stopped them from acting against him was Potter's word.

"Could have been better," he finally said.

He could tell she understood only too well what he meant, so he took the conversation in a different direction. He really could do without the understanding. He refused to even think the word pity. "Blithering idiots, the lot of them," he went on derisively, and instantly felt better. "Couldn't do a thing to improve my condition, but had me listen to a lecture on cursed wounds. Just tried to give me more antivenin for Nagini's bites – which was developed by me, by the way – and enough painkillers to knock out a hippogriff."

"Your wounds aren't healing properly?" asked McGonagall softly.

"They are healing, if rather slowly. Nagini's venom was – improved – over the last couple of years, and the potion I made after Arthur was bitten isn't working as well on me."

"What are the healers going to do about that?" Now she sounded worried about him. Fantastic.

"The potion needs to be improved, obviously. I was hoping someone there would have done it by now – they do have half a dozen potioneers working in St. Mungo's. And it's not like they'd be doing it for me – I wasn't the only one bitten by Nagini in the last few months."

"What did they say, then? Are they working on it? Or-"

"They said they were. But I couldn't understand what took them so long. So I went to have a look myself-"

"What? You went to see the hospital's potions labs?"

"Naturally. I-"

"Since when are they letting patients just walk in there?"

"I wanted- Some people were obviously severely neglectful in doing their jobs – Or else, I wanted to know why there was a delay. So I demanded to be shown to the labs.

"Minerva, you wouldn't believe the conditions there. Unattended cauldrons, ingredients haphazardly lying around, with no care what would happen if one accidentally landed in the wrong cauldron, residues of strange substances on counters, unwashed cauldrons, even window, if you can believe it. If it had been my class I'd have failed them all on the spot.

"And the audacity of some of the potioneers there – complaining that I had no place being there, insisting that it wasn't my place to tell them what utter failures they were. Those were mostly the older people. The younger ones – my former students – at least tried to do some last minute cleaning up when they heard I was on my way. They were still at it when I got there. Tried to get the others to stop complaining."

He smiled derisively at that. "Not that they're all that much better – I've no idea how they passed the NEWT exams – but at least they've learned to recognise when they're being failures, and to shut up and listen when they're told what they did wrong. The others -" The little snort he gave there could almost have passed for a laugh – albeit a very dark one. "They still tried to defend themselves when I pointed out to them that the painkillers I had received were mediocre at best, something I wouldn't have given an E if they had been brewed in my class-"

Snape was interrupted by a knock on the door. McGonagall, whose shoulders were shaking suspiciously at that point, barely managed a "Come in," before she burst into laughter.

Flitwick and Sprout, who were standing behind the opened door, stared at her, bewildered by her outburst.

"Severus was telling me about his visit to St. Mungo's," she answered their unspoken query once she had caught her breath. "He-" She chuckled again before she could go on with her explanation. "He went to the labs, to terrorise the potioneers, because apparently the potions there aren't to his exacting standards. They somehow found out before he got there. His former students all panicked, of course. They knew what was coming to them. The others – Poor wretches, had no idea what they were dealing with-"

"now, Minerva, I've no idea where you got that from-" Snape tried to backtrack, only to be interrupted by the teachers' laughter.

"Oh, what I'd give to have seen that!" said Sprout wistfully once she stopped chuckling.

Snape suddenly found himself facing McGonagall's calculating gaze.

"I know exactly what I'd give," she told him. "I'm willing to let you have a bottle of my finest Scotch for that memory." her eyes darted to the pensieve in the corner.

Snape followed her gaze and realised what she meant. "Now, Minerva..."

But before he could reject the offer, the other professors joined in. There was speculation about how he had managed to frighten the healers there into letting him get to the labs in the first place, especially as they thought he was a sly Death Eater who had somehow evaded his deserved punishment. By the time they started taking bets on how far he had gone, Snape had begun to appreciate their admiration for his way of dealing with fools. He finally accepted after he had been promised freshly collected truffles from Sprout, and extra swishiness charms for his new robes by Flitwick on top of McGonagall's offer.

There was nothing in that memory he would not be comfortable to let them see, and if they felt their presents were also making up for almost killing him and prompting him to flee the school by jumping from the Astronomy tower, then so much the better.

They moved on surprisingly fast from that. Snape's memory was to be viewed later that day, something to look forward to while they worked. It was the first real amusement they had had since the end of the battle, and it seemed the more entertaining for it.

McGonagall had summoned them to discuss how to start the repairs on the school. All Heads of Houses were asked to come, but Slughorn, reminding her of his injured arm, had opted out. The others suspected his time was taken up by the new fans he had gained thanks to his admittedly heroic participation in battle. Snape, who was no longer an official member of staff, had promised he would help get the school ready for teaching again, before he decided whether he wanted to leave the school.

"We're going to have some guests later today," the headmistress began. "From the Department of Education. Kingsley will also be here. I want to be prepared when they arrive. We should have a good idea what damage has been done, and how much work it will be to repair it."

"They'll want to know what we're planning to do this year first," said Flitwick. "We can't teach here, obviously, but something needs to be done about all the students who should have been having their exams soon."

"And all the muggleborns who weren't even allowed to go to school," added Sprout.

"Yes, exactly," agreed McGonagall. "We should have a plan we can present to them, instead of letting them make the decisions for us. The ministry's ideas about education haven't been the best these past years."

"Minerva, what shall we do about all the muggleborn first years who didn't receive a letter? Who are now in muggle schools, not even knowing they belong here-"

"I know, Pomona," sighed McGonagall. And know she did. It had been the two of them, after all, who had deleted all the letters to the muggleborn students, so the ministry would never even know their names. It had been such a drastic step, so completely denying the children any knowledge of what they were, but the happenings of the previous months had proved their decision right.

"I made a list of their names and addresses, and hid it," the Gryffindor explained to the others, who were well aware what a risk that had been, and told her so, now that they could finally talk about it.

The then deputy headmistress had been the first suspect for vanishing the names of the muggleborns. Had she been questioned, she would have been persecuted for protecting muggleborns, and if they had gotten her to reveal the the location of the list she had made, the consequences for the children listed there would have been disastrous. Luckily, there never had been any questioning, because in order to do that, the ministry would have had to admit that such a thing as muggleborns exist, and that they were not muggles who had stolen the magic from someone else.

"We will have to track them down, of course, now that they can no longer be magically traced. And they'll have to start as first years, obviously," she came back to the topic at hand.

"Yes, that's probably best," said Flitwick. "We'll just repeat the whole school year. We can't pretend the students learned what they ought to this year."

"Impossible," said Snape. "That way you'll have almost three hundred first years come September, and how will you teach them all together?"

"Besides, it wouldn't be fair," agreed Sprout. "The muggleborn students missed the whole year, while the others got to learn almost all of the year's material – at least to some degree," she amended to forestall Flitwick's protest.

McGonagall mulled it over for a couple of minutes. "All right, here's what I think we should do. The current first and second years won't be repeating the year, only the muggleborns. They only learn the basics, and their parents should be able to help them catch up to whatever they missed."

"All right," agreed Flitwick, "but the students start taking electives in their third year, so all the older students ought to repeat the year."

"They'll be allowed to do that," conceded McGonagall, "but we'll urge them to try and take the exams if they can. Hopefully enough people will do so that we will end up with about the same number of students in each year."

"Exams?" asked Sprout. "Minerva, do you really think we can get Hogwarts back in shape in time for the exams?"

"No, of course not. That's one point we'll need to discuss with our visitors today. They have to allow the exams to be taken at the ministry. Preferably in August, so the students have plenty of time to prepare."

"And you think it – wise – to ask our students to learn on their own?" asked Flitwick, not looking too happy at the prospect.

"We've just come out of a war, Filius. We can't undo all the damage in a day. Some things will need time. And even the students will have to deal with some difficulties. But it will get better soon."

The professors agreed to her plan, even if they could see the problems in it. McGonagall became aware at that moment what it really meant that she was now headmistress. Her colleagues listened to her decisions – even Snape did – in what could be called the most amicable change of power.

Once that was taken care of, they moved to more pressing concerns.

"The debris will need to be cleared up first," said Flitwick. "We can have a look at what can be salvaged, and then vanish everything else. Once that's done, everything will look a lot less hopeless. And then I'll have a look at the wards. Minerva, you'll have to help, it can't be done without the headmistress. At least the most vital ones – preventing apparition, muggle repelling, and so on – need to be put up as soon as possible."

"I need to have a look at the greenhouses," said Sprout, "see what state they're in. I had a quick look, and there seem to be many emergencies. The animals are no better off, but I suppose Hagrid will know best what to do there."

"We're running low on healing potions, and we can't expect any from the hospital." Snape ignored the smirks on the others' faces. "Even if theirs were up to my standards, they are running out of potions themselves. I'll be down in the potions classroom, brewing, until Kingsley arrives with the ministry people."

"I'll help with warding, of course, and I'll be taking names of people who are willing to help rebuild over the summer," added McGonagall. "For now, ask the other professors to help you. They're required to be here, at least until the official summer holidays."

They all started making their own plans at that, Flitwick muttering about finding the Arithmancy and Ancient Runes professors to help with warding, and Sprout deciding to hunt down everyone else who was not helping out in the hospital wing.

"Find Slughorn and get him to help you, Severus. Injury or no injury, that man could really do with some work," McGonagall said, clearly annoyed with her colleague, before they all parted ways.


	16. Chapter 16

Kingsley came over and sat down in the chair that had been vacated moments before.

"Is Bill still with the goblins?" asked Remus.

"No, he's already gone home. Was that George Weasley I just saw leaving your table?"

"Yeah, it was him. Had a business proposal for me, if you'll believe it," answered Sirius.

"He wants you to work with him?"

"Something like that." Sirius sounded clearly disinterested.

"I wouldn't dismiss a job offer so lightly, if I were you." Kingsley sighed.

Both his listeners tensed up hearing that.

"You were unable to come to an agreement?" Remus sounded worried.

"No, it's not as bad as all that. They're not being completely unreasonable. Bill and I managed to convince them to reconsider, but they're going to make it as difficult as they can."

The owner of the shop hurried out to their table at that moment. He must have seen the new minister through the window, and deemed him important enough to take his order personally, to the Marauders' amusement.

"What do the goblins want?" asked Sirius as soon as Fortescue Jnr. had left.

"All sorts of things, as it turned out."

"Let me guess. They feel they've been treated badly this past year, and they'd like nothing better than to take it out on the wizarding world," said Sirius.

"That's not fair, Sirius," Remus said softly. "They really suffered in the last year."

"I suppose they did." Kingsley's tone was very matter-of-fact. "Enough at any rate that they agreed they'd rather have peace to recover. It did take us a while to get there, though." He exhaled, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders. "They bluffed a little, and we bluffed a little, about how far we were willing to take this argument."

He gave a quick laugh. "At one point they even tried to use the dragon, said the trio had kidnapped it, and we should hold them responsible for animal abuse. Not their smartest move. Bill turned the tables on them, threatened he'd have Charlie investigate how a dragon had got there in the first place, and what conditions it had been held in."

Sirius snorted. "I bet they loved that."

"About as much as you can expect. They protested loudly, and thoroughly, every time we tried to shift the blame away from Harry. But their business sense finally kicked in and they called their bluff first."

"So, what did you agree on, then?" asked Remus.

"Basically, they've realised they won't get anywhere with antagonising Harry – not after he just became a national hero. So they're going to drop the charges against him. But not right away. They want to see him suffer at least a little, so there's going to be a formal hearing where Harry will pay a reasonable fine, and then he'll be pardoned. They already agreed to that, but they set the date of the hearing as late as they could get away with – at the beginning of next month. Until then, Harry won't be allowed anywhere near the bank."

Sirius cursed.

Remus interrupted him before he could say any more. "What about Ron and Hermione?"

"They're much better off. Mostly because neither of them has an account at Gringotts. Ron, of course, gets all support from his parents. They'd have to cut off the whole Weasley family to get to him. It's a very good thing that the goblins are fond of Bill, because they considered doing that, but dropped it for his sake.

"As for Hermione, she only has a muggle bank account and exchanges money as she needs it. Still, it would be better if those two weren't seen in Gringotts for a while either."

"Thank you, Kingsley," Sirius said after some time. "That's better news than I had expected. It's the best outcome we could have hoped for after the goblins decided to take it out on Harry."

Remus thanked him as well.

Kingsley laughed. "Well, I'm glad I could help. After what Harry did, it's the least any of us can do. But to tell the truth, what I think impressed the goblins the most was again something Harry did."

the Marauders looked at him surprised.

Having gained their interest, Kingsley went on. "You remember, yesterday, when we arrived at the ministry-"

"A bit hard to forget, that," said Sirius. He remembered, all right. It was always an unforgettable event for him when he found himself back in the company of dementors.

"First, we had to deal with the group of snatchers and dementors that lured us away from the ministry. And even with your help after you arrived, it took us a while. But when we finally got to the ministry, everything there was already taken care of, thanks to Harry."

"So you told the goblins of his latest adventure?" asked Remus, who had to admit he was not quite getting it yet.

"Only parts of it. I mostly told them how the dementors were obeying him when we arrived."

Kingsley watched the Marauders expectantly, waiting for the penny – or better, knut – to drop. He was not disappointed, as their eyes widened comically a moment later.

"Does that mean-"

"Are you saying-" they began at the same time, then broke off.

"Kingsley, what exactly are you saying?" Sirius finally asked.

"That the dementors recognised Harry as the most likely person whose lead the rest of the population would follow – at least the magical population."

Sirius shook his head in denial. "I don't know what you're talking about. The dementors are obeying you."

"They are now. But that's because Harry chooses to obey the ministry." His calm and assured tone finally convinced the Marauders that he was telling the truth.

The revelation was followed by silence, until Sirius cursed.

"That was almost the same reaction the goblins had," Kingsley told him, amused.

"Does Harry know?" asked Remus.

"I don't think he understood what it meant that the dementors stopped fighting him as soon as he defeated Rookwood and Umbridge. But why don't you ask him yourselves? He's over there."

The Marauders looked to where he was pointing, down the alley, in the direction of Gringotts. Harry and his friends were walking towards the bank, all three of them looking at an opened newspaper in Hermione's hand.

"We better stop them from going in there," said Kingsley, and stood up.

The Marauders followed suit.

There were a lot of news to be exchanged once they met up. First on the agenda was of course Gringotts. The three teenagers were informed why they could not go to the bank, and given plenty of opportunity to complain.

Only once that was covered did they come back to the news in the Daily Prophet they had been so absorbed in when the adults had caught up with them.

Hermione threw the newspaper on the table, showing the front with the main article. It was about Umbridge's attempt to become minister the day before. At least, that was what the title said. The first surprise was the photo in the centre. Instead of depicting any of the relevant people, it showed a few of the aurors arresting obviously confounded snatchers.

Shacklebolt opened to the page where the story was continued. He had to admit, it was a very strange article. It included a rather lengthy interview with a young auror, Bellamy, who had accompanied Shacklebolt as he had been lured away from the ministry to fight dementors. In the article, that fight was presented as the main event, and Bellamy, who had certainly done his job, but had by no means been outstanding, was depicted as having almost won the whole fight on his own.

The actual event in the ministry was glossed over. There was no explanation as to why so many people from the Battle of Hogwarts had suddenly found themselves in the ministry. Worse than that: the article left the impression that the mere presence of the fighters had been enough to stop Umbridge, Rookwood, the snatchers and the dementors, until Shacklebolt had returned to the ministry, again accompanied by Bellamy, who then told at length about the snatchers he had arrested, and what punishments were awaiting them.

The only mention of Harry was that he had been at the ministry as well. Nowhere did it say that it had, in fact, been Harry and his two best friends, now sitting in front of Shacklebolt, who had uncovered Umbridge's plot, and formed the plan to stop her; and that it had been Harry who had ultimately faced Rookwood.

The outraged Marauders did not need more prompting than that to tell Harry about the dementors obeying him. Shacklebolt backed them up, but even that did little to help. Harry more or less refused to believe them, until they had to come to the realisation that he simply did not want to believe them, did not want the extra responsibility it implied.

He even started to backtrack about the article, deciding that he would rather not have the extra attention, either. But that was where the minister drew the line. The truth needed to be known. The public had had enough lies to read over the past months, they needed to get used to rely on the newspapers to print the truth again – at least to some degree.

That particular article was written by Rita Skeeter, which did not surprise anyone present. Shacklebolt promised to have a word with her, which would lead to a better informed version being printed the next day.

The minister cast the Tempus spell, and stood up. It was time to meet with Minerva and the people sent by the Department of Education at Hogwarts. In all the talking he had been unable to finish his ice cream, he noted resignedly. And yet, this had been the first rest he had had all day. He wondered how long it would be until things settled down and he would no longer have to run from one meeting to the next.

Before Shacklebolt could leave, though, Harry remembered his promise to the Malfoys and brought it up. The minister sat back down, reluctantly. He looked at the haggard teenager in front of him, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I don't mean to get you in a difficult position," Harry said softly. "But they did help. Draco, when he bought us time in Malfoy Manor; his mother, when she didn't give away that I was alive; and all three of them – including Lucius Malfoy – when they helped us figure out who was behind the dementors' disappearance. It doesn't seem that much, maybe, but if they had refused to help, things might have ended very badly."

Hermione looked at him encouragingly, obviously supporting what he said; and even Ron looked resigned.

"I agree," Shacklebolt said slowly. "They did help you. But they weren't always helping. Especially Lucius Malfoy. He was a Death Eater by conviction, and he has undoubtedly done some horrible things. Do you think that what little he did to help you makes up for those?" His deep voice carried across the table that had fallen silent listening to him.

Harry hesitated, and before he could answer, Shacklebolt went on. "Suppose we ignore any thoughts of retribution. Do you think the Malfoys have reformed enough that they're no longer a threat? Do you think that Lucius Malfoy was only a threat while Voldemort was around?"

That was the important question. Harry was quite sure that he could answer with 'yes' when it came to Draco and Narcissa Malfoy. The former may have been a lot of things, but he was not a killer, and seeing the Death Eaters in action had finally made him see sense. As for the latter, Harry doubted she had ever been anywhere as ambitious, as aggressive as her husband, or her sister; or even her son.

But Lucius Malfoy was a different matter. Yes, his family was important to him, possibly more important than social status. And yes, he had lost interest in Voldemort's cause over the course of the year during which he had been forced to swallow many a humiliation from his leader.

But Harry could never forget that that man had slipped Ginny Riddle's diary because her father had dared to search his house for illegal objects. He had known about the Chamber of Secrets, about the monster that had already killed a muggleborn before, and he had known that the diary would unleash it again, even if he probably had not known what exactly the diary itself was.

"No, I can't say that I do. I don't think Lucius Malfoy will ever stop being dangerous." Harry sighed. "But I'd rather take the chance than deny what I owe him."

"I think pardoning his son and wife would be more than lenient enough, certainly more than you owe the Malfoys."

Harry found himself unable to argue the point, even if a part of him still felt he had promised Lucius more than that.

"But I agree with you that we should try to give a good example, to show that we try not to punish for revenge," the minister went on. "And I think the Malfoys are the best candidates for that. Malfoy Sr. can't walk free, that would just be irresponsible. But you can speak on his behalf – officially, I mean – and I'll make sure his sentence is as lenient as possible."

Harry let out his breath. He felt now that he had done what he had promised to do, and relaxed. "Thank you, Kingsley. You'll certainly have my vote," he said.

The words were spoken with feeling and made Shacklebolt laugh, only to have everyone present assure him that he was the best minister they had had in ages. He left in a much better mood, his ice cream now finished.

Remus did not stay for much longer after that. He left to go and check up on Tonks. He had been eager to get home ever since George had told them of Fred's improved condition.


	17. Chapter 17

The air grew cool, sharp, and refreshing. The barest hint of wind blew past them and brought goosebumps to Harry's arms. The alley was deserted as they walked down, their shadows lengthened in the evening light, brushing the buildings along the way. He could only hear their footsteps, and Ron and Hermione's chatter only a step away. Sirius, walking beside him, was as silent as Harry.

And as the setting sun fell on those people he loved, surrounding him and yet separate, sharing his silence with him, Harry felt a strange sort of happiness that almost seemed to be sadness, and that penetrated to the deepest layers of his being.

The sight of the warm candlelight coming from the familiar interior of the Leaky Cauldron, which held so many memories – both painful and beautiful – followed by the sight of _her_ face, glowing with a happiness of her own, rushing out of the dark depths to greet him, beckoning him inside, almost moved him to tears.

As he followed Ginny inside, he realised that this was one of those rare moments when one becomes aware of one's own happiness. And for all that these things were fleeting – and only the more precious for it – he wanted to hold on to that moment, to keep it with him and treasure it, for as long as he lived.

Harry's quiet, contemplative mood did not survive once he entered the pub. Even those few guests present managed to make a commotion to greet him. Sirius, unwilling to deal with so much public attention, excused himself, and went over to the bar to talk to Tom, as he said. And soon enough, the others had followed Ginny to a quiet corner and sat down to join her for dinner.

There was a copy of the Daily Prophet at her table, opened at the story about their adventure at the ministry the day before.

Ginny noticed Harry looking at it. "Have you had time to read it?" she asked him. Her face kept twitching, as if she was fighting to keep a straight face.

Harry looked at her strangely. "Yes," he answered slowly, "we've all had a look at it—"

"It's preposterous!" Hermione interrupted him. "How dare that vile woman—"

"Hermione—" Ron tried to calm her down.

Ginny only needed a look at Harry's upset face after that before she burst out laughing.

"Ginny?" Harry did not know what to make of her reaction.

Ginny started to talk, only to be interrupted by her own giggling. She tried again, with a similar result. The more confused and frustrated Harry looked, the funnier she seemed to find the whole thing.

"Skeeter came to Hogwarts early this morning to investigate," she finally began once she had managed to get herself under control. "The three of you were still asleep, so she looked for other people to grill. She kept asking really nosy questions – most of which had little to do with what happened at the ministry."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, thinking of all the things he was keeping secret from the public, and how much Skeeter would enjoy writing twisted versions of each of those.

Ginny held his gaze, a knowing look on her face. "I couldn't let her go on, of course. Only, I didn't know how to stop her. She kept disappearing from time to time, and I just knew she was turning into a beetle, but I couldn't catch her at it." She scowled.

Harry tried to tell her not to worry about it, but she waved him off. "Oh, I didn't give up that easily. I mean, I did sulk a little, and went to Mum to whine to her about it." She paused at that, and a rather wicked smile bloomed on her face. "I should never admit to that, but it was just so lucky I did."

She turned to Hermione. "Do you remember Mum telling us about that time she used a love potion?"

The older girl smiled, though she looked confused. "Wasn't that after some blonde bimbo tried to do the same thing to her brother?"

"Uh-huh. And then Mum took revenge for poor Uncle Fabian. Guess who the bimbo was?"

Hermione's eyes widened in realisation. "No!"

"Oh, yes. And then I took a leaf out of your book, and—"

At that point Hermione must have caught up with what Ginny was trying to tell her, because both girls dissolved into giggles as soon as their eyes met.

"Hey, what's going on? Tell me!" Ron complained.

Hermione ignored him for the most part. "So now you're blackmailing Skeeter with that story?" she asked Ginny.

"You bet I am. That's why she's been so vicious in her last article. She can't do anything worse than that, so she tried to do what she could."

"Does Mrs. Weasley know?"

"What I'm blackmailing Skeeter with?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well... I did tell her, eventually. She took it pretty well, all things considered. I could tell she was rather proud that she had shown Skeeter once again not to mess with her family – Even if it was really me this time. Well... She did try to pretend she was annoyed with me. You know, because blackmailing people is such a bad habit."

The giggles were starting to take over again.

"So, what exactly happened with Mrs. Weasley and her brother, and Skeeter?"asked Harry before they lost it again.

Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to ask. The girls lost their fight to keep their composure, and burst into laughter again.

"You – you don't need to know that," Hermione finally managed.

"It's a girl thing," added Ginny, and they cackled some more.

All Harry and Ron could do about it was sigh and shake their heads at the girls' antics.

The evening wore on. As Harry dined with his favourite people, their laughter and chatter became his whole world, and nothing seemed real outside of the pub.

Only slowly did he register that it was Hannah Abbott who was serving them.

Why, though? Was she working at the Leaky Cauldron now? As he was about to ask, he noticed Ginny's face grow sombre. Hannah held her gaze and smiled at all of them. Then she tried to leave before Harry could ask her questions. Now that he was really looking at her, Harry could see the sadness in her eyes that her smile could not dispel.

"Please, stay a moment," he said abruptly to keep her from leaving.

Why was she trying to avoid them, when it seemed that she had been talking to Ginny before they came in? Harry recalled the second pulled out chair at Ginny's table when they had joined her. But he had been so wrapped up in his own little world, he had not given it a second thought. Was that why Hannah had tried to avoid talking to them? Because she thought she might ruin their mood?

But he wanted to hear what she had to say. Whatever he felt would not be worth a thing if it made him want to stop listening.

Hermione shot him a quick glance. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her. She nodded to him, and then asked Hannah to join them for a moment. The Hufflepuff's smile looked a lot more genuine this time. She must have wanted to talk, after all, thought Harry, as she sat down without any further prompting.

The words came soon after. "My dad – I don't know how he found out about the battle, but he did, and of course he thought he had to come—"

Hermione drew in a sharp breath. "Merlin, Hannah, he didn't – Is he—"

"No, Hermione, it's not—" Ginny tried to stop her.

Hannah caught on with a frightened look what Hermione was trying to ask her. "Oh, no. No. He's – The healers said he's stable." She swallowed.

She needed a moment to collect herself. Then she went on. "My dad's not much of a fighter. I don't think he ever wanted to be. They told me he waited for me at the Hog's Head. And then, when the students stopped coming through he must have realised that I was staying to fight. So he came to Hogwarts." She sunk her head. "I wouldn't have stayed if I'd known he was there—"

Harry and Ron interrupted her, tried to comfort her by telling her how brave her decision had been.

"Brave... Such a Gryffindor thing. I didn't stay because I'm brave. I'm not a fighter, either. I stayed because people I care about were there, people who I knew wouldn't leave, wouldn't even consider—" She broke off.

But Harry got a pretty good idea whom she was talking about, anyway. "Yeah, Gryffindors tend to do that," he said.

Hannah confirmed his guess by blushing pink at his words.

A moment later, she looked down. "Then Dad got hurt in the battle – I only found out when I saw him in the Hospital Wing. Later, he was transferred to St. Mungo's and I was told to go home. The healers said I couldn't do anything for him, anyway, and Madam Pomfrey said he was stable. And even Professor Sprout—" She broke off again.

"You don't have to talk about it—" began Hermione.

Ginny, who seemed much closer to her than the others – probably through Neville, Harry guessed – and who had already heard most of it, offered to take over.

Hannah declined both. "No, it's all right. Everyone from school is going to start asking me why I work here now – the Leaky Cauldron is easily the best visited pub in Wizarding Britain. I won't be able to avoid the question.

"It's simple, really. I got home, and I was all alone there. It shouldn't have made much of a difference. It had only been Dad and I since autumn last year—" A reminder that her mother had been killed at the beginning of her sixth year caused the other teenagers to sink their heads. "But I couldn't stay. I kept hearing things – and seeing things—" She broke off again.

The others could guess what sort of things she was talking about. They had all taken part in the same battle.

"So I came here," Hannah continued. "First, just to be with people. Then I found out Tom was hurt – from an accident of sorts after the fighting reached Diagon Alley – and he needed to get to the hospital. But he refused to leave the pub unattended. So I offered to... I don't know, to look after things, I guess. He came back this morning – better, but still not quite healed. And I was still there, and he thought I had done a decent job. So he offered me work."

"So this is only until he gets better?" asked Hermione.

"No, the job's permanent. Tom said he's thought of hiring someone for a few years now. He's not getting any younger. And now with his injury—"

"But what about school?" Hermione burst out, unable to contain herself.

"What about it?" Hannah's tone sounded calm and collected, but Harry could detect her rising tension underneath.

Hermione, apparently, could not. "Well, what about when you have to go back to school in September?"

"I don't think I'll be going back."

"But... Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"Hermione—" Harry tried to stop her.

But his friend was not listening. "You missed your sixth year when you had to drop out, and then – Well, I don't know what was being taught this year, I wasn't there. But from what I've heard—"

"Hermione!" Ron tried this time. Even he had noticed Hannah's distressed face.

Hermione listened this time, finally noticing Hannah's reaction as well. "Well, I – I didn't mean—" She looked quite chagrined.

"I don't care about any of that, I can't go back there. I'm not a Gryffindor. After this year—" Hannah shivered. "I don't think I'll ever be able to go back. I don't care about the NEWTs. I've got my OWLs, and I did finish sixth year. I passed the exams at the ministry," she added rather defensively.

Ginny comforted her after that. Harry was surprised how close they seemed. It was such a small thing, but it made him see once again how much had happened at Hogwarts while he had been away. Ginny, Luna and Neville had become the leaders of the resistance, and had grown so much closer because of that. In fact, most students seemed to have become closer, fighting a common enemy. And now Ginny was comforting Neville's... What? Crush? Girlfriend, maybe? He had to admit, he felt a little out of the loop after a year away from everyone.

Harry caught Sirius' eye, who had rejoined them while the teenagers had been talking. It dawned on Harry that there was someone really out of the loop there. His Godfather had almost gone along with Lupin, but had decided in the last moment to give his friend privacy with his family. Harry had felt bad that Sirius had not seemed too enthusiastic about spending time with him, but now he could see how out of place his Godfather must be feeling.

As the others continued with their conversations, he turned to Sirius and started to quietly talk with him. And later, after Hannah had gone back to working, and the rest of them had started making plans, he decided against going to Australia to search for Hermione's parents so he could remain with Sirius. He could feel his Godfather's gaze on him as he declined, all too knowing, and probably only a step away from dissuading him from his plan. If he looked at him, if he let him say anything, he might change his mind.

Admitting to Sirius that he was staying for his sake would hurt his Godfather more than being alone, that much Harry knew. And that last option was not something he wanted to consider. Harry needed an excuse, and fast. He could feel everyone's surprised looks around the table directed at him. He swallowed. And said the first thing that came to mind. "Uh... The Dursleys. I – I have to go and tell them that the war is over and that they can go home."

He received some odd looks for his explanation, but no one argued with him to change his mind. In the official sense, at least, the Dursleys were his family, after all, and it was accepted that he felt responsible for them.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry felt exhausted by the time they called it a night. He thought even the Knight Bus might have been preferable as he stumbled out of the fireplace in the Hog's Head. But the room Sirius had booked before they had found out the goblins had frozen Harry's bank account needed to be cancelled. That led to a rather embarrassing conversation with Aberforth.

They walked back to Hogwarts from there and found the school in quite a different state to what they had left behind earlier. Most of the students were gone as well by now, and those who remained were all of age. The teachers were there, of course, but there were also some new arrivals.

They figured out the reason for that when they met McGonagall. She was making a list of people who were willing to work over the summer to rebuild the castle. A lot of strangers were running up to her and asking her all sorts of odd questions while she was trying to direct what at that moment still seemed pure chaos.

Sirius, who felt he had no other place to stay anyway, signed up at once. Harry followed suit. He had opted to remain with his Godfather earlier while Hermione and Ron had made plans to go to Australia.

To Harry's misfortune, that was exactly the moment Mrs. Weasley found them. And just as he had known she would, she invited him and Hermione to stay at the Burrow. She did not take it well when they declined.

"-But Hermione, dear, there's no need for you to spend the night here. You-"

"I'll be leaving for Australia first thing in the morning. I have to be at the airport before sunrise-"

"But that doesn't mean you can't sleep at the Burrow. And, anyway, that seems rather hasty. Have you made all the preparations? I think the sensible thing would be to sleep on it and then decide in the morning what to do."

"No, I've already booked the flight-"

"That's another thing. Are you sure you want to go there by muggle means? Not that I have anything against them-" she immediately backtracked at Hermione's look, "-but portkeys are faster and safer. And now that Percy has returned to the family, we could ask him to talk to the travel department at the ministry. I'm sure you would get a portkey in no time."

"That's exactly what I don't want. I can't wait to find my parents, but I think they need to stay away from the magical world for now. I just don't think it's safe yet, with many of Voldemort's supporters still around, who would want to hurt them just for being my parents. I think, for now, doing this the muggle way will be safer."

Mrs. Weasley argued a little more, especially after Ron told her he would be staying as well. She finally gave in and turned her attention to Harry, but she had to concede defeat there as well. She, as well, found herself unable to argue when Harry told her he needed to find the Dursleys and send them home.

But she did not go easily.

"Oh, you with your busy plans! Bill left this morning for Shell Cottage. Charlie left the night before, to fly all the way back to Romania. The dragons can't wait, apparently. Percy is busy helping the minister – because he thinks he's the only one who knows who can and cannot be trusted at the ministry. And George! First, he had to go look after his shop, and when he finally got back home, he brought a friend with him – that girl, Angelina, who used to go out with Fred. You know her, don't you? She used to play quidditch, I believe – and they've been locked in Fred's room ever since, talking about who knows what..."

She kept talking like that, quite upset, and finally convinced – or better, forced – Ginny to go with her.

Later, during a quiet moment, Sirius drew Harry away to a secluded corner to have a word with him.

"I'm coming with you to the Dursleys," he told his Godson without any preamble.

Harry's eyes widened in panic as he heard that.

"Don't worry, I'll behave myself," Sirius went on, having expected the reaction. "I just want to meet them, see what sort of people they are. Oh, I do have a pretty good idea what to expect, I just want to make sure I'm not missing anything."

There was too much understanding in his Godfather's eyes for Harry's comfort. He nodded quickly, dropping his gaze.

"We'll be going tomorrow then. That was the plan, wasn't it?"

Harry's gaze shot up hearing those words, and he found himself unable to look away again. Sirius seemed to be looking right through him, and seeing exactly what his Godson's plan had been. Harry felt his face flushing. He desperately wanted to say something to take Sirius' mind in a different direction, but his mouth had gone dry.

Suddenly his half-cooked plan to visit the Dursleys to have an excuse to stick around Sirius did not seem like such a great idea after all. But he was not given an opportunity to reconsider. In no time at all they had talked to McGonagall, who had told them the Dursleys' whereabouts, and had promised to get them there the next day.

Harry was still preoccupied with thoughts of the following day when he made his way up to his almost completely emptied dormitory to get ready to sleep. The only other occupant, Ron, was already there, wanting to get as much sleep as he could, as he had a long day ahead. His nervousness about flying in a plane for the first time kept Harry sufficiently entertained to take his mind off his own problems, until Hermione arrived.

Harry wondered, not for the first time, why it was that girls could enter boys' dormitories when the reverse was not possible, as he watched her pace the length of the room, never taking her attention off him.

"I can't believe you're doing this now, Harry," she told him. "You shouldn't have done this without us."

"Done what?" asked her rather confused friend.

"Meet with the Dursleys, of course!" Hermione sounded exasperated, to say the least.

Harry shot Ron a helpless look, but his friend chose to do the smart thing and ignore him, preferring to stay out of the confrontation.

"Why?" asked Harry. "What's with everyone wanting to come along suddenly? It's just the Dursleys. This'll probably be the last time I'll ever see them."

"That's exactly it! This is the first time you get to meet them when you're allowed to do magic, and no longer live with them, the first time you get to meet them on your terms. And you might never see them again after this – Wait, who else wanted to come along?"

"Sirius. He's forcing me to take him along. And so what? What do you think I'll do, hex them into oblivion? Really, Hermione, you should know me better by now. I'm not going to fight with them. I'll just tell them they can go home, and that will be that-"

"Why?" Hermione's voice was very soft. "I mean, I don't want you to get in trouble, or anything, but don't you feel like you need to tell them a few things?"

"No," Harry said without thinking it over. "I don't care about any of that. There's nothing to talk about. In the end, they did what was needed. They let me live with them, which kept us all safe. However they treated me, it's over now, and I'm no worse off for it. I just don't care about them enough to want to listen to anything they might have to say. Once I've talked to them tomorrow, we'll be free of each other at last. That's all that matters."

Hermione's eyes filled with sorrow as she listened to him. Then she dropped her gaze. "All right. I won't say any more. But I'm glad Sirius will be with you tomorrow, at least."

Ron saw Hermione out of the boys' dormitories after that. And Harry, who was no longer feeling sleepy after his talk with Hermione, followed as well.

The Common Room was empty, save for Sirius, who was sitting by the fireplace. He was staying in one of the lower years' dorm rooms, as all underage students had now left for the summer and the rooms had been vacated.

Harry could imagine how strange it must be for Sirius to be staying at Hogwarts again. He had welcomed his own bed with an odd sort of nostalgia after a year on the run.

That must be why Sirius was sitting in the Common Room, drinking a glass of something that looked suspiciously like Ogden's Finest.

They all hung about a little, not really wanting to part and go to sleep, but not really in the mood to start an actual conversation, either. Only Hermione seemed to be preparing to say something, and Harry had a horrible suspicion she wanted to discuss the Dursleys and their plans for the next day involving them with Sirius.

But much to Harry's relief, they were interrupted by a house elf popping into the room before she could start. It was Winky, they recognised her at once. She was holding a little package, which she put down so she could wring her hands.

"Harry Potter, sir" she began hesitantly, "if it would be convenient for you – That is, if you maybe had a minute to spare-"

"Er, sure-" Harry started to say.

But Winky did not seem to have heard his input. "Or if not – Oh, if it's inconvenient, and Winky has bothered you for such a useless-" Her voice got squeakier from her excitement, and she began pulling her ears. "But you've already retired for the night, and now you've come back to the Common Room, so you're not sleeping yet, and you're with your friends-" She eyed Sirius suspiciously while she said that. "And Winky thought that maybe – maybe-"

"It's fine, Winky," Harry said a little more forcefully. "You're not bothering me. It's no problem, I have time. Please, whatever it is-"

"You're too kind, sir. Really, too kind-"

"Winky, did you want to tell me something?" Harry was starting to get impatient.

"Yes, sir. That is, I need to give you something." She picked up the package she had brought with her, and hesitantly held it out to Harry.

The bespectacled boy took it from her just as carefully. "What is it?"

"It's Dobby's possessions, sir."

"Dobby's-"

"I say his, though, of course, they're yours, sir."

"He willed them to me?" Harry asked softly, his voice awed.

"No, sir." Winky sounded surprised. "Dobby was yours, so everything he thought of as his is of course yours."

"Er, what?"

"Dobby was your house elf, he could not own anything," Winky explained patiently. "Even if he pretended he did. But that was because he was a very bad house elf-"

"Dobby was a free elf." Harry was feeling anger rising in him with every word Winky said. He knew, if he did not stop her, he would take out his grief and helplessness at Dobby's death on her.

"Yes, that's what he always kept saying," the elf went on without noticing Harry's reaction to her words, "that you agreed with his foolish ideas, that you wanted him to own things, and work for pay, and-"

Sirius started laughing at that. "What am I hearing? What sort of house elf did you own, Harry?"

Harry and Hermione immediately shot him dark looks, and even Ron frowned at the comment. Chastened, Sirius held up his hands.

"Dobby was the best elf I've ever known, the best friend one could wish for, and he died for me..." Harry said for both his Godfather's and Winky's benefit. It had the desired result, as silence followed his words.

"Winky, why is it so difficult for you to accept that Dobby really was free?" Hermione did her best to keep out any judgment from her voice.

"But he wasn't, was he? Not like I was," she wailed.

Hermione watched the little elf cower in front of her as they all remembered how she had pleaded with Barty Crouch not to free her. Back then, she had been quick to judge the situation, but the intervening years had taught her a few things. This time she chose to ask.

"Winky, I don't understand," she said. "You hated the way Crouch treated you. How could being free have been worse?"

The house elf only drew further into herself, lost in her own memories, unable to answer.

"They would do anything rather than be free. Don't you know that by now?" Sirius told her.

Hermione drew herself up slowly. "Oh, I know. I know all about that. House elves have been enslaved for so long, they've forgotten what it's like to be free. They were mistreated and frightened into submission until they actually became afraid of being free."

There was something accusatory in Hermione's tone as she said that, but Sirius did not let that affect him. His expression remained carefully blank. "Hermione, do you know what happens when house elves are freed?"

She drew back slightly. That question had been rather unexpected. "Most house elves are so unused to freedom that they don't know what to do with themselves, so they just look for someone else to take them on as slaves. And they consider themselves lucky if they succeed, usually in a worse situation than before, because no one trusts a freed house elf, you see? And then everything begins again, of course, the mistreatment-"

"They lose their magic, that's what happens," Sirius talked over Hermione's impassioned speech.

"Lose their magic? How could they lose their magic? Their magic is actually more powerful than our own, in a sense. They can apparate in places we can't, and-"

Winky's flinch interrupted her, and a moment later the house elf began to shake and sob. "Oh, I – I'm sorry, miss," she managed between sobs. "May I be excu – excused now?"

All Hermione could do was nod helplessly and watch her pop out of the room, before she let herself fall into the nearest chair.

She shook her head in denial. "I don't understand-"

"House elves don't have magic on their own," Sirius began to explain. "That's why they need to bond with a human. Well, usually it's more than one. They like places that are saturated with magic. Gives them more power if they're bound to such a place, you see? Like Hogwarts, for example. There's enough magic for hundreds of elves here."

"Yeah, you can feel it buzzing in the air." Harry smiled.

The other three shot him perplexed looks.

"You can?" Ron asked him curiously.

"Well, yeah. Can't you?"

Ron shook his head slowly. "Not sure what you mean, mate."

Harry frowned. "You know, when you can feel there's a lot of magic around you- like at Ollivander's, and old magic homes like 12 Grimmauld Place and the Burrow, and especially at Hogwarts..."

The others kept staring at him.

"Come on! You can practically hear it crackling in the air in the Hogwarts library!"

"We've all felt the magic at Hogwarts, I suppose," Sirius finally told him as Harry started to get frustrated. "But most people don't feel it quite so strongly." There was the barest hint of a smile on his lips, though he was trying for a serious face.

Harry started to turn red, though he was not sure why. He cleared his throat and decided to go back to the previous topic. "So, uh, that's why house elves actually prefer pureblood families? Because there's more magic in old pureblood houses?"

"Well, wealth might also have something to do with it, but there's that as well," said Sirius.

"That's why they want to be slaves? So they'll have magic?" Hermione was slowly getting over her shock, and her need to know all details was returning.

"Sort of, yes," answered Sirius. "Humans aren't magical beings, as you know. Even though we have plenty of magic, we need wands to focus it. House elves are a bit like wands, too. They use up the remaining magic, the magical aura wizards and witches give off. They're parasites, really-"

"Are they? Could humans use that magic the house elves are using? Or are they just taking what we can't use, anyway?"

"All right, yes. We don't actually have any use for it. But who would want a freeloader hanging about? The house elves know that, and they'll do anything to avoid being freed. Only 'freed' isn't the right word. No one forces them into being bonded to humans, it's what they want most."

"Why don't they just do it in secret, then?" asked Harry.

"Do what in secret?" Sirius asked back.

"Bond to humans. If they never told the humans they were bonded to-"

Sirius snorted. "What, and you think you wouldn't notice it if a house elf attached itself to you?"

Harry flushed. He suspected that was exactly what had happened with Dobby. He was not sure if the elf had thought he had known, though. If Sirius was right, he probably had thought Harry knew. Either way it did not matter, Harry supposed. He had been the one to free Dobby from the Malfoys without asking him first if he wanted that. He had been responsible after that.

"Well, I suppose one doesn't notice the pull on one's magic here at Hogwarts. There might be hundreds of elves, but there's a lot more people than that, and there's just so much magic here... But if you have an elf bonded to one human, it would be hard to miss."

"What about two elves bonded to one human?" Ron asked slyly, referring to Dobby and Kreacher, noticing how red Harry had turned hearing his Godfather's explanation.

"Definitely," answered Sirius, catching on at once. The not-quite-smile was back on his face, much to Harry's annoyance.

"So that's it?" Hermione's voice was deceptively calm. "That's how they were enslaved and why they refuse to be freed. They want to be useful, to pay back for their magic, and they have to live in constant fear of losing it, even though humans barely even feel the pull on their magic."

She fell silent for a long moment, and when she spoke again, all calmness was gone from her voice. "Unbelievable. The cruelty of it..."

"So I guess this isn't going to make you give up on Spew?" asked Ron.

"It's S.P.E.W.! Oh, no. No. I'm certainly not going to give up. This explains so much. Why the elves kept refusing my help, for one. But I understand now." She paused to think. "I'll have to set new goals, I'll have to reorganise everything..." She kept talking as if to herself while she got up and purposefully marched up to her dormitory.

In the ensuing quiet Harry turned to the package with Dobby's possessions. He picked it up so very carefully, as if it might melt in his hands, and set it on his lap. He opened it.

The package contained what one would have expected: Dobby's colourful socks and other mismatched articles of clothing, a few other everyday objects, and what must have been a significant part of his salary at Hogwarts.

Harry was suddenly struck by how much he was cared for by the people he loved and was loved by in return. There were all those who had given their lives for him, not least of all Dobby. And now that the war was over, those people who had fought with him, and for him, and whom he had fought for, were all ready to take care of him.

The Marauders and Bill had dealt with the goblins before he had had time to worry about them. Ginny had taken care of Rita Skeeter, with Mrs. Weasley's help, of course. And Shacklebolt and McGonagall, who took the time to help him with whatever he had asked them in the past couple of days...

Then there was Dobby, who even after his death had given him something. His salary, though not much by human standards, had reached Harry during the only time he could remember to have had any need of money.

And while Sirius and Ron kept a respectful distance to give him privacy, it felt quite natural for Harry all of a sudden to cry for all those things, all those friends he had lost, and all those he had not.


	19. Chapter 19

**A\N: I know, it's been ages. But I'm hoping I'll be able to get back to writing now. Here's the new chapter, and the next one shouldn't be too long in coming. Hopefully.**

It was still dark when Harry woke up. It was Ron's alarm clock that did it. It kept making an awful ruckus, but Ron was valiantly refusing to let it wake him up. Annoyed, Harry threw his pillow at the mop of red hair sticking out from under the covers, but that did not have the desired effect. Ron just burrowed himself deeper in his bed.

Having finally had enough, Hermione got up from her bed next to him and went to shake her boyfriend awake. "Ron, get up, or we'll be late."

The low mumbling that followed must have been an agreement, for she went back to her own bed to pick up her morning toiletries and a change of clothes before going to the bathroom.

After a year of living together, the morning ritual had become so familiar that at first Harry could not detect anything strange about it.

Finally it penetrated his mind that they were no longer in their tent, but back at Hogwarts. "Hermione?" he asked in a bewildered tone.

The bushy-haired girl turned around, her hand already on the bathroom door. "Oh, good morning, Harry."

And like that, without any more explanation, she closed the door behind her.

Ron finally sat up in his bed, and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning," Harry greeted him.

"Morning," came the mumbled reply.

"Er, did you know Hermione was staying here?"

Ron tried to nod casually, but the blush creeping into his cheeks somewhat diminished that effect. "Yeah. She couldn't sleep in the girls' dormitory, and came over here. She did that the night before as well, but that time you went to bed so early and woke up so late that you missed her."

Harry suspected he knew why Hermione had started wandering into their dorm. There were some other rituals they had developed while living on the run. They all tended to check up on each other whenever they woke up to make sure they were all still alive. And they slept close enough together that each of them could see the other two.

"What, she wanted to make sure we were still alive?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded.

The first part Harry had no problem understanding. It made perfect sense to him that she would be unable to rest without the two boys' presence. He himself found it difficult not being able to see her at all times. But Ron's presence kept him from giving in to irrational fears.

"Why the wandering, though? Why doesn't she just sleep here?" he asked the part he had trouble understanding.

Ron went beet red. "I told her the same thing, but she said no, said we should get back to normal, and-" He broke off as he saw Hermione come back.

She tried to pretend she had not heard what had been discussed, as the boys looked at her, expecting some reaction.

Finally, she cracked. "Oh, fine. Yes, I couldn't sleep in the girls' dormitories. And, well, I do have a long day ahead-" She broke off when she saw the boys roll their eyes at hearing hearing the obvious.

She scowled. "I'm not sleeping in the boys' dormitory. We're no longer on the run, we no longer sleep in a tent. There's no reason why I should. And I won't listen to Lavender's obnoxious comments-"

"Lavender? Is she staying at Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded.

"She is? Why didn't she go home?"

"She can't go home until they know for sure whether she's a werewolf or not. She would've had to stay at St. Mungo's, but Professor McGonagall convinced them to let her stay here. She told them about the Whomping Willow, and the Shrieking Shack..." Hermione trailed off, her thoughts miles away.

Then she shook herself, to dispel her mood, her mind back on the matter at hand. In no time at all, she and Ron had prepared themselves for their trip to Australia and were ready to leave.

Harry went with them as far as he could. He saw them off Hogwarts grounds, midway to Hogsmeade, where his two friends apparated to London after a brief good-bye.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry made his way back to Hogwarts. Having been left alone in the middle of the road as his friends disappeared into thin air, he became aware that this was the first time in their mutual history that Hermione and Ron were off to some undertaking that did not involve Harry. And even though he himself had opted to remain, he could not help but feel left out.

He had barely reached the school grounds when he saw his Godfather on the look-out for him, and it occurred to him that this would be the first time he and Sirius would be doing something together as well.

They did not waste any time. Sirius had already talked to McGonagall, who was secret keeper of the house the Dursleys were staying in. She took them to an uninhabited area by port-key, and left as soon as she had given them directions. She had brought them as close to the house as she deemed safe if they were to avoid being seen by muggles, but they still had a bit of walking to do.

Harry's thoughts turned to his upcoming meeting with the Dursleys as soon as McGonagall had left. The whole thing had a surreal feel to it, somehow. Here he was, having survived the year's adventure, and he was going back to his relatives, as he had done in all his previous years. And yet, everything was different.

A broken twig under his godfather's foot alerted him to the wizard walking next to him. It was not least of all because of Sirius that the whole thing felt so strange.

An awkward silence had fallen between them as they walked. Harry could sense his godfather's eyes on him, could guess what sort of things the older man might be imagining went on in the Dursleys' home to cause Harry such an aversion to visiting them.

He wanted to disabuse Sirius of the notion, but could not find the words. How else could it be explained how strongly he was affected by the upcoming meeting with his relatives? He was surprised by the strength of his own reaction. So how was he to explain the Dursleys to someone else? It seemed quite impossible.

He shot a quick glance at Sirius. He used to confide in him – through letters, as well as in person, he reminded himself. But that seemed like a lifetime ago. So many things had happened in the past two years that had shaped Harry, that Sirius had not lived through, did not even know about in parts.

"Look, Harry," the wizard in question began hesitantly, "if you'd rather not meet with your relatives today, or at all-"

"What?" Harry turned a confused glance at him.

"I – I don't know. I guess I wanted to finally meet them, see what sort of people they really are. But I guess I shouldn't have pushed the meeting today so much. I should have waited to see if you still wanted to go before talking to Minerva-"

"No, no, that's fine. I have to do this. It's my fault they had to hide in the first place. So I should see to it that they get back home. And the sooner I get it over with-"

"Your fault?"

"Well, yeah. You know what I mean."

Another silence followed Harry's words.

"So," Sirius began after a while. He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Is there anything I need to keep in mind for the meeting?"

Harry tensed at the implications of the question. "Like what?" he asked, being deliberately obtuse.

"Oh, I don't know," Sirius' tone was intentionally light. "I doubt you'll be greeted with cheer and gratefulness. Should I be prepared to ignore rude comments? Should I avoid goading them, or – or-"

"Or expect them to mention how they used to mistreat me?" Harry gave a tiny snorting laugh that held little humour.

"I didn't say-" Sirius began to backtrack.

"But that's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

"All right. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. You don't have to tell me anything about the way they treated you. It's entirely your business. I'll stay in the background when we get there-"

"Sirius, stop, you've got it wrong."

Harry gave an exasperated sigh, but could not quite suppress a smile. Sirius just could not do subtle. The thought was achingly, wondrously familiar, like something he had always known, and it had just slipped his mind.

This was Sirius, it finally dawned on him, his godfather with the good advice and the bad habits. Harry had been willing to trust him only hours after they had met, as soon as they had left the Shrieking Shack, when at entering he had believed him to be a murderer. Later, he had suspected that might have been out of his childish wish for a family. But that had been the paranoia of his battle-worn mind, he now realised. His heart had always known he could trust Sirius.

It was true, they had not talked to each other for two years. It was also true that they could not go back to the way they were back then. But they could – and would – move forward.

And Harry would start by confiding in him again.

"If you think the Dursleys were abusing me, you've got it wrong," he said, and made himself hold Sirius' gaze.

His godfather looked away first. "If you say so."

Harry fought his frustration at the expected answer. "What? You think I'm lying? Why would I do that? I mean it, Sirius, I would never have stood for that."

Sirius shot him an openly disbelieving look. "Right. And what do you think you'd have done?"

"I'd have run away. I did, you know," he hurried on, not letting Sirius interrupt him. "That first time you saw me in Surrey, before I got on the Knight bus – I had run away because my uncle's sister kept insulting my parents. Didn't I ever tell you that?"

Sirius hesitated a moment. "You did. That was one of the first clues I had that something was wrong at your relatives'. What thirteen-year-old runs away in the middle of the night with nowhere else to go? And then agrees to live with an alleged murderer instead." He said that last part under his breath, as an afterthought.

Harry huffed, exasperated. "Look, Sirius, I'm not going to start defending my relatives here. They hate me, and I used to hate them, too, before I realised they weren't even worth that much effort. But I'm telling you, you've got the whole situation wrong. My relatives – I don't think I can explain to you just how ridiculous they are, how irrational – and how much they hate and fear anything out of the ordinary – especially magic. All they ever wanted was to keep as far away from me as they could-"

"And seeing as they couldn't?"

"They could pretty well, all things considered. They locked me out of their lives as much as possible."

Sirius opened his mouth to question that last remark, but Harry forestalled him.

"Yes, literally sometimes. They used to lock me up. That was the worst thing they ever did." Harry paused a moment there, trying not to remember the summer after his first year at Hogwarts in too much detail. "They were quite horrible, don't get me wrong," he went on. "They spent as little money on me as they could get away with – and not because they lacked the funds. And I can't recall a single nice thing they ever said to me. But they didn't-"

"Why, though? If they so obviously couldn't stand you-"

"Because of the way they are! Because that would have made them _those_ sorts of people. You know, abusers, and whatnot. And that's not something they could stomach being called. And it would not solve the problem if no one else knew. They would know. They would be like those _other_ people, people who do bad things, odd and abnormal things, and have bad things happen to them. And how could they still feel superior to them if they could be put in the same box with them? That's the thing about them. They like being ordinary. They want to be as normal as possible. The thing they hated most about me was that they had to hide my abnormality-"

"Oh, I see."

"I mean-"

"No, no. I think I get it now."

Nothing further was said after that. Harry felt awkward for the rest of the way, thinking he had said too much, more than he had intended to. He could not understand where his defensiveness had come from, why he had not just stopped talking a lot sooner.

However uncomfortable he had felt during the walk, he felt it was over too soon, as they reached the village and the Dursleys' house materialised between tall trees. He felt quite unprepared to deal with them. But it would not do to let Sirius notice that. So he forced himself not to slow down, and walked up to the entrance.


	20. Chapter 20

**A\N: This story arc turned out to be longer than I thought, so I'll be posting it in two parts. Look out for the next post!**

What followed was exactly what Harry had expected, no worse than any other times he had spent in his relatives' company, and much easier to deal with as he was now grown up, independent from them. Yet, that did not make it any better.

They were greeted by Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle before they saw the Dursleys. The two members of the Order of the Phoenix had heard about the battle at Hogwarts on the wireless, but had stayed put to keep their charges safe. It had been agreed that they would not leave until they received a message from the rest of the Order telling them it was safe.

Because of the problem with Umbridge and the dementors at the ministry they had had to wait a little longer. But the previous day had been fairly calm, and when Harry had suggested to send his relatives home, McGonagall had agreed.

Hestia told them the newly appointed headmistress had already talked to them, informed them that Harry would arrive later that day.

It turned out, Hestia and Dedalus had been taking care of quite a few people in different safe houses, all under different Fidelius charms, but connected by a separate floo network. Dedalus kept explaining the intricate charmwork and warding that had been done to keep all those people close to the Order members who could not defend themselves safe.

They were now about to help all of them get back to their lives, by either contacting their closed ones or taking them home themselves.

They were only too happy to have Harry handle his relatives, and it went without saying that that had little to do with the number of other people they had to deal with. Harry was not surprised when Dedalus implied that the Dursleys had been their most difficult charges.

There was no delaying the inevitable after that.

At first glance, the Dursleys looked as he remembered them, but there were subtle differences. For one, they seemed smaller, somehow. And that was not only due to shedding a few pounds. There was the familiar anger just beneath the surface, and the not-quite-concealed fear that inevitably accompanied each of their interactions with the magical community. But there was also a restraint that was new, a defensiveness that was no longer a mere fear of the unknown. Harry wondered if he should ask Hestia or Dedalus what had happened over the last months.

The way his relatives reacted to Harry had also changed in subtle ways. There was an unmistakeable awareness in all of them that Harry was no longer dependent on them, but a fully grown wizard. His aunt and uncle visibly flinched away from him whenever someone mentioned Harry's victory in the recent war with admiration, or recounted any details of the battles.

The Dursleys' relief at hearing that they were going home was obvious to anyone who knew them. Uncle Vernon immediately lost some of his guardedness, and started expressing his indignation at the way his family had been treated almost at once. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, kept sulking in the background, looking like she had swallowed a sour lemon, and occasionally throwing in a comment to support her husband's words. Dudley remained silent.

His cousin looked surprisingly fit, Harry had to admit. He could barely be called chubby now. And with the lack of extra padding he looked quite tall. He always had been, Harry amended, but his width had made it a lot less obvious. Another surprise came when he caught Dudley's eye and they exchanged a look of resignation at the older Dursleys' behaviour.

Sirius, despite his assurances on the way there, soon lost his patience. He shut Uncle Vernon up under threats and got the whole family to get packing so they could leave. Harry decided it had been a good idea that his godfather had come along after all.

Once that was taken care of, Harry first took Sirius by side-along apparition to his relatives' house to show him where it was, and then the two of them took the Dursleys home.

Harry's aunt and uncle could not let it be that easy, of course. It should have gone without saying that they would be as eager to have the wizards out of the house as the latter two were to leave. Instead, they started complaining about the most obvious things, almost as if they were eager to start an argument, to goad him into some sort of action – though what, Harry was not sure even the Dursleys were clear about. For Aunt Petunia, it was the state of her house, and she started ranting as soon as she got to see it. Uncle Vernon, enraged that he had to endure magical transportation one more time, remembered his car he had been forced to abandon when they went into hiding.

Sirius was about to blow again, but seeing Harry's already frustrated face, thought better of it. Instead, he began vanishing the dust while Aunt Petunia shrieked at the obvious use of magic.

Harry, meanwhile, tried arguing with his uncle, who kept accusing him, or Hestia and Dedalus, of stealing his car. Harry tried explaining to him that after so many months the car had either been stolen, taken apart, or had fallen into disrepair. Either way, he doubted they cold find it as it had been left. But after a short while of watching his uncle grow redder and redder, he gave up.

He looked over to see Sirius arguing with his aunt, his wand twitching suspiciously in his hand.

"Sirius, I think we're about ready to go," he called, before his godfather lost his patience – what little of it he had – and cursed Aunt Petunia.

"Wait, I'm not done talking to you!" bellowed Uncle Vernon.

"Well, I'm done talking to you. You're back home and-"

"You... You ungrateful little hooligan! We took you in and raised you, like the decent people we are, and how did you thank us? Took us away from our lives-"

"Your lives have been waiting for you to get back to. Weren't you listening to what Dedalus was telling you? They took care of everything – your job, your neighbours-"

"I don't care about your hocus-pocus! You lured us away from our home, and had us locked up in that tiny cottage with – with your sort! And what for? There was no trouble the whole time we were there."

"Something you should be very happy about. If you had been found-"

"Do you think I'm stupid, boy?"

"I don't know, should I?" asked Harry smartly.

"Does the house look like it's been searched?" Uncle Vernon went on a little louder, but otherwise pretended not to have heard his nephew. "No one even looked for us, did they? They only ever wanted to find you. But I suppose you only thought it fair to drag us into it. If you had to go into hiding, why should normal people like us be allowed to live our normal lives-"

"Exactly!" cried Aunt Petunia triumphantly. "You always were putting on airs, trying to make yourself look important. Just like _her._ Always that defiance, and the accusing looks. Thought you'd give us a taste of your life, did you?"

Harry felt himself growing angrier by the second. "What are you talking about? Have you lost your minds? What, do you think I made up the war, or the danger to you-"

Aunt Petunia sniffed. "Oh, I don't doubt for a second that – that your sort likes nothing better than to kill each other, and go after ordinary, decent-"

"Oh, cut it out!" Harry was starting to feel he was losing his restraint.

"But why we had to be locked inside that tiny house – I would have thought you'd be capable of something more with your magic-" She could not cover up her greedy look with the feigned condescension at that point. "But no, not for us. We got to stay in that – that-"

"The Fidelius charm is the safest-"

"I had to hear enough of that these last few months! Admit it, you liked the idea of us locked up somewhere, unable to leave. Your idea of revenge, was it? For all those times you did something awful and we had to lock you in your cupboard-" She pointed at the door under the staircase, which was accusingly visible from the living room. "Such a conniving little thing you were from the beginning. The cupboard wasn't good enough for you, no, you had to have Diddykins' room, and you didn't rest until you got it. You always wanted everything of his-"

"Mum," Dudley finally tried to intervene at that point, but he was too late.

His mother kept opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water, but no sound kept coming out. Harry looked over at Sirius, who stood with his wand pointed at her.

Uncle Vernon noticed this at about the same time. "You! You did this to her! You-"

"Yes, I did." Sirius' voice did not rise, but it could have cut glass. "We heard quite enough of that, I think."

Uncle Vernon drew himself up to his most intimidating pose, and stepped up to the wizard. "Put her back right."

"I am going to," said Sirius in a calm voice. "You see, I'm not one to use undue force on those who can't defend themselves." He stepped closer to Uncle Vernon, instead of drawing back. "For example, I would never use magic to fight a muggle." With that, he put his wand back inside his sleeve, and fisted his hands.

Vernon Dursley might have been a lot heavier, but Sirius was tall enough to look down on him, and together with the mad glint in his eyes and his reputation as an alleged mass-murderer that was enough for Harry's uncle to back down.

"Let's go," said Sirius, and godfather and godson walked out the door, leaving Privet Drive for good. Sirius casually flicked his wand while stepping out, and the last sound Harry heard from his old home was his aunt's gasp of indignation as the spell was lifted from her.


	21. Chapter 21

**A\N: The last part of this story arc. Look out for the double post!**

**Acknowledgement: The part about Harry not believing the earth is round because he heard it from his uncle was 'borrowed' from the wonderful HP fanfic 'Perfectly Abnormal' by evansentranced.**

They walked down several streets that all looked exactly the same – even to Harry, who had grown up there. The rows of exactly the same looking houses would have been enough to create that impression, but even the gardens and cars resembled one another.

"They thought you'd try to get even for the way they used to treat you." Sirius' voice still had an edge.

"Yes."

"They really seemed afraid of magic – of you. But instead of backing down, they were almost goading you."

"Yes."

"It was as if they wanted to see if you would sink to that level, and they were surprised that you didn't."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you?" Sirius asked outright, having had enough of Harry's monotonous answers.

"What? Why didn't I sink to their level?" Harry asked exasperatedly. This conversation felt like a repeat of the one he had had with Hermione the night before her departure to Australia. "Because they are not worth it. I don't want them to have a place in my life any more, not even as the people I have a grudge against."

"Lots of people would not see it that way. I don't see it that way, myself. I'd curse them, if it were me. It only seems fair to get even when someone treats you badly. Merlin, if I'd ever had the chance to get away with cursing my parents... But you..."

Harry did not say anything.

"Having reason to hate someone for so long, being angry for so long – it messes people up. How you can just get over it, just let it go – It doesn't even affect you – never did..."

Harry still remained silent.

Finally, Sirius sighed. "I used to think, if your relatives were even half as bad as you gave us reason to suspect, then you must surely hate us for letting you live with them. But you never complained, never asked us why we did not try to help you, if you really were as important to us as we all claimed-"

"I know about the blood wards. I've known since-"

"Yes, I suppose they would have told you, eventually. But that's not-"

"And, anyway, I never thought someone ought to take me away from them. We all had bigger worries. I mean, yes, I didn't like living there, and I would have preferred staying at Hogwarts over the summer, too, if that had been possible-"

"And why shouldn't it have been possible? Well, obviously not at Hogwarts, but-"

"Well, yes, obviously I'd have liked to have stayed with you, but it was hardly your fault that you were on the run. And no offence, but I really didn't want to live on the run, and have to hide from aurors. Once I really thought about it," he added under his breath.

"I didn't mean with me! I mean, I wish it had been possible, but-"

"Well, who else was there?"

"Plenty of people! Your friends' families, for one. And you also have grown-up friends. Well, people who care for you, anyway-"

"It wasn't that bad!" Harry could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he was past caring. "I wasn't some poor charity case to be passed around. I was _fine_. I was more than fine. I could take care of myself. I was safe at the Dursleys', I was fed and clothed – for the most part, and I-"

"What do you mean, for the most part?"

"I told you, they didn't want to spend any money on me, so I had to wear my cousin's old clothes whenever possible."

"But they fed you properly?" There was an edge to Sirius' voice as he asked that, but he was carefully keeping his voice calm.

Harry, noticing this, paused, unsure how to answer.

"Didn't they?" Sirius asked again, a little louder this time.

"As a rule, yes. But they used to punish me by denying me meals."

"They starved you?"

"They used it as a form of punishment-"

"Like they used to lock you in a cupboard for punishment? That's what your aunt was saying, wasn't it? They didn't just confine you to your room like other people would have done-"

"The cupboard was my room!" Harry realised only after the words were out that what he had said only made it sound worse. "Until I turned eleven," he tried to backtrack. "And, anyway, being locked in _there_ wasn't so bad-"

"As opposed to being locked in where?" Sirius caught his involuntary emphasis on 'there'.

Harry thought about not telling him, but then reconsidered. He was not hiding things, and he most certainly was not covering for the Dursleys. "After my first year, I didn't tell my relatives that I wasn't allowed to do magic. It may not have been the nicest thing to do, but I enjoyed having them fear me. Then I received a letter of warning against under-age magic – It wasn't me, it was Dobby, actually.

"But anyway, the Dursleys were furious. They locked me in my bedroom. That was the last time they ever locked me in, and the only time it wasn't just for punishment. It was – They put metal bars on my window, and a lock on my door so I wouldn't be able to sneak out."

"They imprisoned you."

"They were trying to keep me from going back to Hogwarts. Their old tactic again – If they couldn't get rid of me, they would try to keep me away from anything related to magic as much as they could. Dobby had also been trying to keep me from going to Hogwarts that summer – in his case, it was to protect me. And he had taken all my mail, and I wasn't sure any more if anyone would remember to look for me if I didn't arrive at Hogwarts on time... That was the worst thing they ever did to me-"

"They always fed you properly, then? You weren't downplaying that part as well?"

"They might have been somewhat stringy when it came to any sort of treats – especially if it was something Dudley liked. But they always gave _me_ enough food."

Sirius did not miss the emphasis on 'me' either. He was unsure what to make of it. "What are you not telling me?" he asked pensively.

Harry took his time answering. "That summer after my first year-"

"They were denying you food as well?"

"No, not me. They gave me enough for myself. But, well, I already had Hedwig then. They refused to let her out to hunt – because the neighbours might have noticed and asked questions, or so they claimed. But mostly so she wouldn't bring me letters, I think. They wanted her gone, really, so they refused to give her any food after they locked me in-"

There was an odd look in Sirius' eyes, so Harry hurried on. "What? You know they're nasty people. They couldn't beat me – that would have been abuse. And frankly, I wouldn't have kept quiet about it. So they did what they could instead."

"You wouldn't have kept quiet, you say. You so sure about that?"

Harry hesitated a little lost in his own memories. "I think it's more correct to say that I didn't keep quiet about it. At least before I went to Hogwarts. Afterwards, I had my own secrets to keep." He grimaced. "For all the good it did. I mean, some people did take me seriously. But then they'd ask me – very carefully – if the Dursleys were hitting me, or starving me, or – you know, if they were abusing me, so I'd say no-"

"And they'd stop listening," Sirius finished the thought with a sigh.

"Well, yeah. Most of them did. Mrs. Figg at least believed me when I told her my relatives were nasty. But she seemed so relieved that I wasn't being abused, she didn't take the rest too seriously."

"I bet. Dumbledore had probably told her how important it was that you remain living with the Dursleys. She wouldn't have wanted to upset his plans, now, would she? Did you tell anyone else?"

"The others, well, they could hardly expect the Dursleys to treat me like their own child. So they thought I was being jealous and ungrateful. But that didn't stop me. I never made it a secret that I couldn't stand my relatives."

"Which only confirmed their opinion of you," Sirius fought to keep his voice steady. "It only made your relatives look better, and made things worse for you."

Harry thought it over for a heartbeat. "I wouldn't say that," he said slowly. A moment later, he gave a snort that might have been a laugh.

Sirius looked at him curiously, raising his eyebrows.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry decided to share. "There was that one time, in primary school – You know what primary school is, right?"

"Of course I do, it's the school muggle children go to before coming to Hogwarts," answered Sirius.

"So, that one time in primary school, Dudley stole my homework – well, took it, more like – and tried to pass it off as his own. We had a new teacher – a bit of an idiot, actually – and he didn't believe me when I complained. Well, there was me, angry and dressed in old, hand-me-down clothes, and there was Dudley, who looked well cared for, and who could cry on command. And that teacher, well, he used to put a lot of stock in appearances. He was really formal – his clothes always looked freshly ironed. And he wore a wig." Harry actually chuckled.

"I remember, I got really mad. And a second later, his wig had turned blue. You should have seen his face." He was fully laughing at that point.

"I can imagine," Sirius also joined in with a brief chuckle.

The mirth did not last long. Harry sobered up after a few short seconds. "That's what I'm trying to say. I was never one to just let them treat me however they liked. They wanted me meek and downtrodden, so they wouldn't have to fear my magic, and it drew them mad that I wasn't. They used to go into hysterics at the barest hint of magic-"

"That was after you went to Hogwarts, though, after you could actually defend yourself-" Sirius stopped, realising a little late that Harry was too agitated to be pushed.

"No, Sirius. They were always afraid of me. I could feel that long before I knew anything about magic. They might have detested me, but I knew they feared me more. Worse, they knew that I knew. And that made it all right. They could only push me so far, they knew, and it made them furious-"

"Harry, come on! You were just a little kid-" Sirius could not contain himself, despite his best intentions.

"A little kid who could think of smarter retorts than them at ten, who got much better marks at school than their pampered son. The more they tried to give Dudley everything they denied me, the worse it backfired. They fed him everything he wanted, rather than only what was necessary. And he grew fat as a pig, while I grew normal-sized and could outrun Dudley even on my bad days. They tried to give him anything he wanted, but he only grew spoiled and lazy, and I learned to do basic chores, to take care of my own needs. I learned to do my work, instead of lazing about. And I was still smarter than him."

Harry became aware that he was walking so fast, he was almost running. But he did not care, and he did not slow down. "I knew that I was better than they'd have liked me to believe. I used to not believe anything they said on principle. I remember my uncle saying once the earth was round, and I didn't believe him until we learned it at school. And even then, I was quite surprised to hear he had been right.

"As long as I can remember, I was aware that I was cleverer than them – especially Dudley. It was always a pleasure to do better at school than him. That was easy. But that wasn't enough for me. I used to do really well in classes. I used to study so I'd be better than all of them – all my classmates who were either too scared of Dudley or believed nasty rumours about me and didn't want to be my friends-"

"That's not how you did at Hogwarts. Well, I don't mean-"

"That's because I didn't need to. My life – my future didn't depend on it. And I'm really not the studious sort. But I would have – If I'd had to I would have become like that, and I would have made something of myself."

"I know you would have," Sirius said quietly.

Only then did he notice that his godfather was hugging him, holding him close, threading his hand through Harry's hair soothingly. When had they stopped walking?

"I know you're strong," Sirius went on. "I know you could make it through anything they threw at you, and come away unscathed, unaffected. But you shouldn't have had to. You should never have had to go through that. And it's not true that you weren't abused just because they didn't harm you physically.

"You know, I used to think that. My parents, they were the exact opposite. They'd curse me, but I was also their heir, and they could never tell me enough how important I was. I used to think, the less they cared about what happened to me, the better I'd be off. It wouldn't matter to me what they thought of me, or how much they hated me, if only they left me to my own devices. But that's wrong.

"And you are the most amazing person for not letting their treatment of you affect you, not letting it change you as it would have many others."

Sirius kept talking, telling him other things, but harry was only half listening. The exact words did not matter. The fact that Sirius did tell him those things, that he cared to comfort him – that was what mattered.

Hermione had been right – as usual. It would not have been a good idea to have come alone. 'I should learn to listen to her,' thought Harry. Though, he was not sure how the events of the day would have played out if he had had his two best friends with him. Sirius came close to cursing the Dursleys – and could not quite keep himself from silencing Aunt Petunia. Harry was sure Ron would definitely have cursed them. Badly. Strange, that that thought should be so comforting.

They parted once Harry's breathing had evened out.

"When I said they feared me, I didn't necessarily mean that they were scared of me – though they sure were scared of my magic," he went on in a much calmer voice. "But more than that, it was the fact that things remained in my favour no matter what they tried.

"I've known since I turned eleven that my aunt used to envy my mum – because she was beautiful and brilliant, and their parents paid more attention to her, I suppose.

"Only a few days ago I learned that she actually used to want magic – At first, before she found out she would never have it, and then her envy turned into hatred. She knew I had magic and her son didn't, so she tried everything to make sure I'd envy him, and not the other way around. But it backfired.

"I guess I sort of get her now. If I think what would have happened if Dudley had had magic instead of me – I can't even imagine how awful that would have been. Even if the Dursleys had not treated me as shabbily-"

"No, Harry. You can't excuse anything she did because she was envious! She abused-"

Harry opened his mouth to protest.

"Yes, abused!" Sirius forestalled him, "her deceased sister's only child. You say you can understand her envy. I suppose everyone can understand some envy in that situation. But tell me, would envy lead you to treat Dudley's child the way she treated you?"

Harry did not answer.

"I didn't think so. Everyone might feel envy to discover magic is real, but not have it. But the envy would not lead to hating your only sister. I used to envy my brother because my parents adored him, but only had contempt for me. But I loved him, for all that he was an idiot."

"But that was a little different, don't you think? To know there's a whole world she'd forever be excluded from-"

"Then she could have tried to amount to something in her own world! No, Harry. It's got nothing to do with having – or not having – magic. Think of all the gifted muggle children who are born and raised in ordinary families – who are more intelligent, or more beautiful than their peers – There's always a reason to envy someone, if you let yourself. But treating others badly out of envy, rather than try to make something of yourself-"

"Like Cinderella," Harry interrupted his godfather's impassioned speech, and suddenly started laughing, if a little hysterically.

Sirius looked at him curiously. "What, trying to cast me in the role of the fairy godmother?"

Harry only laughed harder. "How – how do you even know about it?"

"lily let us watch some of her favourite animated children's tales. I wasn't too fond of Cinderella, though. I preferred Bambi. I used to think muggle children's tales were all just distorted tales about magic, but that one wasn't like that."

Sirius smiled fondly. "I actually started calling you Bambi. Lily hated it, thought it was morbid. – which, I guess, it was, in hindsight. That was before – well, when both your parents were still alive and well." He thought about it a moment. "But that doesn't make it any more tasteful, does it?"

"Not really, no," Harry agreed dryly, his mood gradually lifting.

Sirius also noticed the change and gave him another one-armed hug.

They parted again as they heard a shuffling sound getting louder. A moment later, Dudley appeared around the corner, flushed and out of breath.

"You've always been too fast for me," he said once he had caught his breath.

Catching Harry's eye, both cousins grimaced, remembering how that bit of knowledge had been gained.

"It's just," Dudley began to explain himself, "we might never see each other again, and I wanted to..." He trailed off.

"Talk?" Harry helped out. It was too much to ask for Dudley to say 'sorry' or 'thank you', he supposed.

"Uh, yeah. There's a pub just down that street." He pointed in the direction. "Do you have some time to spare?"

Harry did not think he had ever heard Dudley being this polite, and was actually curious to hear more. But then he remembered his lack of funds. Sirius must have arrived at the same conclusion, and they exchanged awkward glances.

"Oh, right," Dudley caught on. "Hestia told me you don't use our money. That's all right. I'm inviting you."

Dudley being generous on top of everything else was too much to miss. And so the two wizards agreed.

It was Harry's first visit to a muggle pub, which turned out to be just as dim as wizarding pubs, even in the middle of the day, and only marginally cleaner. The food and drink, on the other hand, were decidedly worse. Still, Harry decided to remember the saying about gift horses and tried to enjoy what he had ordered.

The company, at least, turned out to be more pleasant than expected. Dudley told him of his life in the safe house, of what he had learned from Hestia and Dedalus about the magical world. His parents had tried to keep away from their caretakers as much as they could, but after a while Dudley had actually started to show interest in his cousin's world. After a while, he had even gone through the floo connection to visit the other safe houses, though he had been scared of that for a long time, he admitted. But after months of only seeing the same couple of rooms, even he had become so stir-crazy as to overcome his fear of magic.

Dudley then asked questions about the war and Harry's involvement in it, though it was obvious he had already tried to hear all he could about it.

Neither 'sorry' nor 'thank you' were explicitly said during that afternoon, but they were both implied.

At parting, when Dudley asked how to contact him, Harry told him he himself would keep in contact instead, and realised he meant it. It gave him an odd feeling, thinking about staying in contact with Dudley – almost vindictive, but not at all unpleasant.


	22. Chapter 22

**A\N: So, here it is. The last chapter. I really hope to write a sequel to this. But for now, the updates were taking too long, and I didn't want to leave it unfinished.**

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><p>It happened so quietly, from one moment to the other, with no fireworks accompanying it. The exact moment slipped everyone's notice, even though they had all been awaiting it.<p>

Ron was the last of his family to find out. He was still in Australia when the message reached him. He was spending a few days resting and relaxing with his girlfriend, Hermione, and her newly recovered parents, before returning home.

How the two of them found Hermione's parents was a rather quiet adventure compared to the others they had experienced over the years. Suffice it to say that it was due to ninety percent Hermione's determination, nine percent Ron's support, and one percent sheer dumb luck. And by the end of it, a few days spent dozing under Australia's already mild sun had seemed just the thing to do.

Ron, of course, berated himself for not returning as soon as possible when he got the message, but seeing Hermione's relaxed face as she chatted with her parents, he instantly dropped that thought.

Even now that they were back in the UK some of that had stayed with her. There was the obvious – her tanned skin, her sun-bleached hair. But besides that, there was an openness to her gaze, a lack of tension – despite the dark shadows lurking just beneath the surface, the sadness that never fully lifted – that he had not seen in years.

Ron did not have the patience to fly back in a plane, so he and Hermione had left their tickets with Hermione's parents and had taken a portkey to Hogwarts.

As they were already there, they decided to find Harry first before flooing to the Burrow. Professor McGonagall told them he was helping Hagrid, so they set off towards the groundskeeper's hut.

Their half-giant friend had got away with a few bruises during the battle, but his home had not fared quite so well. They found him working on the entrance door. As soon as he spotted them, he stopped working and greeted them exuberantly. They could not refuse his offer of tea, even though Ron could hardly wait to get home.

The inside of the hut looked no better than the outside. Many things were missing, most likely having been thrown away because they were damaged beyond repair. There was only one chair left. And no trace of Harry.

They drank their tea standing up while Hagrid caught them up on the happenings in Britain while they had been gone. Ron drank his tea in record time, and by the time Hagrid mentioned the Weasleys' news, he was already finished.

They thanked him and went towards the forest, where Hagrid told them he had sent Harry to feed the thestrals. They caught the sound of soft giggling before they saw him, followed by a couple of hushed comments.

A few more steps, past the row of trees obscuring their vision, and there he was. The thestrals were forgotten, eating directly from a large container which lay abandoned in the middle of the clearing. Harry was a little farther to the right, facing a tree. More exactly, he was facing the person leaning against the tree. Ron and Hermione could just make out the long red hair behind Harry, and a slim hand mussing up his hair.

A twig broke beneath Hermione's feet as they stepped into the clearing, causing the couple to break apart and turn towards the newcomers. Especially Ginny, but Harry as well, looked flushed, with a deer in the headlights look on their faces.

"Oh, Hermione! … and, uh, Ron. You're back?" Ginny regained her voice first.

There was shocked silence from the two newcomers, who kept staring at a point just over their heads, avoiding eye contact with either Harry or Ginny.

"We were just, er... S-so how was your journey?" Harry tried to snap his friends out of it. He continued to babble as he got no reply. "We were just feeding the thestrals. See?" He pointed at the feeding animals. "Hagrid sent us. Well, me. He's still working on his hut and he said he could use a little help, and... Oh, come on, guys! We were just..."

Harry was starting to get annoyed at his friends' reaction. It had just been a bit of snogging after all. "Hermione, come on! I'd get Ron being silly about it, but you..." He trailed off as Hermione took a step back.

Behind him the thestrals had noticed the newcomers as well and turned their heads towards them.

"It's not us, Harry," Ginny told him quietly. "It's the thestrals. Isn't it?" She directed her question at Ron and Hermione. "I had the same reaction when I first saw them a few days ago. But the way you lot have been running all over the place, you haven't had time to notice before, I guess."

"So that's what they look like," her brother finally regained his voice.

Hermione sucked in a breath, and there was a catch somewhere back in her throat. She finally looked away from the thestrals and met Harry's eyes. It was there that she saw it. They had changed irrevocably. The war had left its trace on all of them and it would stay with them for their remaining lives.

It was Ginny again who directed the conversation. "So, how was Australia?" she asked while steering them all away from the thestrals.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks and silently agreed with the change of topic.

Harry followed behind, his eyes on Ginny. There was a spring in her step, an air of impatience, now that they were going to the Burrow. The excitement and joy were still in her eyes. But Harry remembered her radiant face from the day before, when she could hardly wait to share the happy news with him.

The rubble had all been cleared out that morning in preparation for the construction workers, and Harry had relocated to helping Hagrid. A lot of animals had to be fed, the owls had to be relocated while the castle was under construction, and there were also repairs to be done on the grounds – Hagrid's hut as well as various animal housings.

They had worked late into the afternoon. Harry had thought of flooing to the Burrow for lunch as he had done every day. He would not have missed it then, he supposed, but one thing had needed to be done after the other, and he had been chatting with Hagrid, both trying to cheer the other up. Sirius, who had been working inside the castle, had joined them after a while – which had ended with him and Hagrid having a drink (or two, or half a dozen) in the now mostly repaired groundskeeper's hut after the day's work, while Harry was left to put everything under wraps.

That was when Ginny had found him, and he had dropped everything and had gone with her to the Burrow.

As she listened to Ron and Harry commiserate about not having been there even though they could have made it, Ginny thought to herself that of the four of them, she probably had the least excuse. She had been at the Burrow after all. And yet, for over an hour, she had remained completely oblivious. Her only consolation was that the rest of her family had not fared any better.

They had had lunch late that day. It had not been said, but they had all been expecting Harry to come through the fireplace at any moment. Ginny had thought they had started too early, if anything, she had still been hoping Harry would turn up. But they had had guests that day – a couple of co-workers of her dad who had been trying to avoid long, boring discussions with Percy about their recent work; Angelina, who had once again been visiting Fred; Bill had also been there that day, he had been at the ministry and had tagged along.

Her mum had cleared away the dishes after lunch. Ginny would have helped her, ordinarily. In fact, she had developed a routine of laying and clearing the table together with Harry, but her boyfriend's absence had dimmed her mood.

George and Angelina had gone up to Fred's room, but everyone else had been chatting and waiting for Mrs. Weasley to return so they could say their good-byes and then go back to work.

They should have noticed something was off, that she was taking too long to get back. Ginny should have checked on her – she had been distracted all morning.

But it had been amusing to watch her father and brothers interact with the other ministry workers. Mr. Weasley had been trying to steer talk away from work, but Percy had been resisting the effort. Bill had not been too subtle in his teasing, much to Percy's annoyance.

The scene had reminded her of the times before the war, before Percy had left the family, and it had filled her with such bittersweet ache that she had been unable to get away from them to look for her mum.

And then, finally, Mrs. Weasley had returned, and the news had followed her mother.

The four of them arrived at the Burrow right on time for lunch. Mrs. Weasley greeted them at the door.

"Ron! You're back! Let me look at you."

"Mum! Geroff!" Ron tried in vain to extricate himself from the hug.

Hermione got a similar treatment, and then Mrs. Weasley moved on to Harry, because he was standing next to them. Never mind that she had seen him only the day before.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be here sooner," Hermione said.

"Oh, nonsense, dear. You're not apologising for spending time with your parents, are you? Especially after all they've been through – _I'm_ sorry you had to leave them so soon. But no matter, they'll be back home soon enough, won't they?"

"Day after tomorrow – It's a long flight from Australia."

"We'll have to invite them over as soon as they're settled in. In you go, dears." She ushered them all inside the house.

Molly watched the four of them barge into the Burrow, and listened to the boisterous greetings all around. Knowing all her children to be happy and well – there was nothing she wished for more.

She pulled out a slightly crumpled envelope from her apron pocket, then stuffed it back inside. It was a note that told her she would be receiving an Order of Merlin, first class, for killing Bellatrix Lestrange.

She had received it the day before, when she had gone to Ottery St Catchpole. There was an antiques shop there that had both magical and muggle customers, and the Fenwicks, the shop's proprietors, had to make sure they did not sell any charmed objects to muggles. From time to time, when they received a new batch, Mrs. Fenwick would ask her to help them, for an appropriate price, of course, to strip down any magic placed on them so they could be sold to muggles.

It had been so long since the days of her apprenticeship, which had ended when her master had been kind enough to release her before Bill arrived. But she still remembered most of what she had learned. She could safely remove the sort of charms and the occasional jinx that objects tended to acquire in a magical household.

The day before, early in the morning, she had received a rather frantic floo call from Mrs. Fenwick asking her to visit her. Molly had to do grocery shopping anyway, so she had gone through the fireplace at once.

She had found the Fenwicks' shop in disarray that extended into the backyard. There were more items around than the shop had been designed to hold. As it turned out, these were a result of the last days' raids by the ministry. They had collected so many muggle baiting objects that they were no longer holding all of them as evidence and were instead returning them to their previous owners.

The shop had been filled with most of what the Fenwicks had sold in the past year, and some things they had never seen before, all jinxed or cursed to some extent to scare and humiliate muggles in lesser cases, and actually harm them in others.

Dear Arthur, Molly remembered thinking when she had been listening to Mrs. Fenwick. His job had first been remade by Scrimgeour to mostly exclude muggles, and then had become nothing but a bad joke over the last year, nothing but a position that had allowed him to hear the worst while unable to help.

But as soon as they had won the war, as soon as Kingsley had been made minister, Arthur had gone to him and they had had a long talk about Arthur's office. Kingsley had restored the office's function to what it used to be before the war, had even given them more authority in favour of the harmed muggles.

Since then Arthur had barely come home except to sleep. Other people in the ministry, including his complaining assistants, insisted that the muggles could wait, that they should first worry about problems in the wizarding world. But Arthur would hear none of it, and had insisted on following every lead, following up on every report – and had to find out, much to his chagrin, that most of them had turned out to be real.

Molly had barely suppressed her tears at seeing the evidence first hand of what had been going on in the wizarding world in the past months – and how much work it would have been to accumulate all those objects inside the shop.

She had surreptitiously wiped at her eyes and had promised Mrs. Fenwick to help as much as she could.

It was there, in the shop's backyard, that the owl had found her. It had been flying towards the Burrow, but smart ministry owl that it was, it had recognised the recipient of its letter and had delivered it to her. She had been meaning to tell her family about it ever since, but the time never seemed right. And then other news had taken precedence, news that were infinitely more important.

Arthur had flooed that morning, tired but cheerful, to tell her of his newest successful raid and to let her know he would be over for lunch with some of his colleagues, and that Bill and Percy had agreed to come along.

So she had set out to prepare a much more elaborate lunch than she had previously had in mind, all the while thinking of the cursed objects she had stashed in the attic. It was rather fortunate that Bill would be there for lunch, she had thought. She might have to ask him to help her with the more elaborate curses.

Her thoughts filled with pride, as they had the day before, at her son's accomplishments. He had always been so brilliant, working as a curse breaker in foreign parts of the world. And even though she was glad to have him back home, she could not forget that it had been because of the war that he had come back, not because he had wanted to. And then, he had got married and settled down...

But that was just as well, she supposed. Had he waited a little longer, he might have married overseas and might have decided to stay there.

And while she had still been caught up in her own thoughts, the guests had arrived, including an uninvited Angelina Johnson. Or maybe George had invited her without letting his family know about it.

He had decided to live at the Burrow until Fred woke up, which had turned out to be much more problematic than Molly would have thought. George had become used to living on his own and refused to live by the house rules of his childhood years. He had friends over without consulting his parents first, who arrived and left at random hours.

Lee Jordan especially had got into the habit of dropping by late at night, right after his new live show on the wizarding wireless ended, and discussing the day's show with George, who had of course become an avid fan.

But, lately, Angelina Johnson had been visiting more and more frequently as well. It was true, the twins had stayed close to most of their old school friends, especially those from their quidditch team, but there was something else there, Molly would not be fooled.

That was why she had checked up on them when she had heard raised voices from Fred's room – simple nosiness. It had not even occurred to her what sight she would be faced with.

George would have found it hard to deny his mother's suspicions had he been confronted with them. Not that he lacked the ability to lie or evade, if he chose to, he was just no longer sure he wanted to.

Things had changed the previous day.

It had started out ordinarily enough, he supposed. He had been working at his shop in the morning when Angelina had dropped by with a proposition to have lunch together.

"What, are you asking me on a date?" he had quipped, even though that sort of invitation had become quite common between them.

"In your dreams, Weasley," had been the expected answer.

He had been surprised how disappointed he had been to decline her offer, but he had promised his mother he would be having lunch at the Burrow. In the end he had convinced Angelina to just come along. She had been doing that frequently in recent times as well, come to think of it.

His renewed friendship with Angelina had been as much a surprise to him as it seemed it was to his mother. Fred and George had had many friends at Hogwarts, and they had remained on friendly terms with all of them. Nevertheless, after school they had all gone their separate ways. The twins had started their own business, which had taken up most of their time, and most of their old friends had been busy with their lives as well.

They had not drifted apart, not exactly. They still met up with old friends whenever they had time, but their conversations had slowly turned more and more into small talk and reminiscences of their school days the less they were involved in each other's lives.

The same thing had happened with Angelina. She had started playing professional quidditch, and slowly quidditch had become the only thing they talked about when they met up.

The war had brought them closer together, strange thing that was though to say. George had been surprised by her strong reaction at seeing Fred being shot down by that explosion. It made him want to share the truth with her about how Fred had survived. And ever since then, she had stuck around.

They had gone upstairs after lunch, under the pretext of Angelina visiting Fred, but mostly to talk by themselves. Not that there had been much visiting to be done, as Fred had been unconscious, of course. They had mostly stayed in the room to be undisturbed.

And suddenly George had wished they could truly have been alone – in George's room, for a change, or maybe if they had had lunch away from the Burrow. But then he had realised that no matter where, for the two of them Fred would always be the elephant in the room.

It had always been that way. Back at school both George and his twin had thought Angelina to be the coolest girl in their year. So they had both teasingly flirted with her and Fred had asked her out to the Yule ball in their sixth year. They had been together for a little while after that, but they had not worked as a couple, so they had gone back to being friends.

That was just how things were. For all that they were identical, Fred had always been slightly more daring of the two, slightly more brilliant, perhaps a little meaner with their pranks, a little sharper with his teasing. They always agreed on everything, but for all that, Fred had always been more the leader.

That had never bothered George before, but sitting there next to Fred, he had been unable to avoid thinking that it had been Fred Angelina had gone out with, Fred being in that explosion that had made her want to reconnect with him, and Fred she had come to visit.

He must have fallen silent for a long time, because Angelina had stopped telling him about a little mishap one of her teammates had experienced that morning, and had given him a searching look.

"Hey, I've never known you not to enjoy someone else's misfortune. What's got you distracted?" There was poorly concealed concern in her eyes.

"Oh, this and that."

"You would let me know if you are planning something wicked." It had not quite been a question.

"Maybe," he had answered in a teasing tone.

She had taken a moment to consider that, and there had been something in her eyes – something new. "A knut for your thoughts."

"Oh, they're worth way more than that."

"What would you like for them?" Now she had been the one teasing.

More daring. "How about a kiss?"

They had both sat frozen for a moment.

"This had better be worth it," she had finally murmured.

Then she had leaned closer, and he had not hesitated to press his lips to hers. Her hands had come up around his neck, and he had leaned in further, set on closing any gap between them. He had only been vaguely aware that they had gone from mild teasing to kissing to a proper snog which had slowly been getting out of control. And then his hand had slipped under her robes and-

"You cheeky bastard, snogging my ex like there's no tomorrow."

They had jumped apart as if struck by lightning, and their cries of surprise had transformed into cries of joy at seeing Fred finally awake and grinning at them.

* * *

><p>Some time after Hermione and Ron took Harry to the Burrow to see Fred, Sirius flooed to his cousin's house. Or tried to. He smashed head first into the wards that had been put up to prevent uninvited guests. Loud cursing followed.<p>

Remus appeared in an instant, a disgruntled look on his face. "Will you shut up!" he hissed, trying hard to keep his own voice down. "Do you know what time it is?"

"What? It can't be later than ten yet. Oh, will you remove the wards already!"

Remus grimaced, but complied. Sirius more or less fell into the room and hurried to scramble back up and dust himself off.

"Why wouldn't the wards let me in, anyway?" grumbled Sirius.

"Because I've already set up the night wards that don't let in anyone. Most people stay home at this time."

"Are you kidding? It's ten! It's-"

"Will you keep it down? Teddy's finally fallen asleep, and Andromeda was so exhausted, she followed suit."

Sirius had the decency to look ashamed. "Ah. Yes. Of course."

"Glad to see you agree. Now, what are you doing here this late?"

"You've heard about Fred Weasley, haven't you?"

"Of course. We were told yesterday, as soon as it happened. But Nymphadora hasn't woken up yet."

"Did Poppy have a look at her?"

"She did. She said everything's in order, and Nymphadora could be waking up any minute now. So all we can do is wait."

"And while we're waiting, I think we should have a toast – for the happy news." Sirius said this as if the idea had just occurred to him, which was obviously untrue.

Remus began to feel the onset of a headache, but refused to show weakness. "That's why you came over?"

"Well, sort of, yes." Sirius at least knew him well enough not to try to deny it. "I thought we could drink a toast – for the end of the war, and for Fred, and for Nymphadora waking up soon."

"What? You mean one for each?"

"Well, that would be up to you, of course."

Remus considered the fastest way he could get rid of Sirius. "Fine. I'll have one drink with you. Just the one, and-"

He had started to move over to the cabinet with the drinks when Sirius interrupted him.

"No, no, no. Not here. Come on, Moony. I found this muggle pub just-"

"No." Remus felt a sharp throbbing in his temple, but resisted the urge to press his hand against it. "No, Padfoot. I'm not going out at this hour to get drunk in some muggle pub!"

After two pints of ale in said pub, Remus had a fully developed headache. And yet, Sirius was showing no signs of slowing down. He was gone for another drink, and there was no telling how long he intended to stay. A moment later, Remus decided he was taking too long getting a drink and went to look for him.

Sirius was leaning against the bar, a couple muggle women standing next to him, and he was saying, "Want to see a magic trick?" to his attentive audience.

"Sirius," hissed Remus, "what do you think you're doing?"

He dragged the unwilling dog animagus back to their seats, and then downed the drink Sirius had brought for himself in one go. That seemed to be doing the trick. The whole awful situation, and even his headache, suddenly no longer seemed quite so horrible.

"I wasn't going to do any actual magic," Sirius complained. "And you owe me a drink."

Remus realised he could do with a drink himself, so they both had another pint, and things improved significantly after that.

By the time it was half past eleven and the pub was closing down, they had both had half a dozen pints, which Sirius had peppered with shots of whiskey in between, and they were laughing raucously at a joke Remus could no longer remember. The barman had to remind them repeatedly that it was time to go, until they were the only customers left in the pub.

"I'll finish my glass in a moment, and then we'll leave," Sirius finally promised after the last reminder, then went back to telling his story.

The barman muttered something about drunks and tramps closing a pub, and Sirius responded with a shout of, "We are the Marauders!", which both friends thought to be impossibly funny.

"Pair of mongrels, that's what you are," the muggle grumbled, tired of asking them to leave.

The two wizards roared with laughter, but then let themselves be escorted out of the pub.

Somewhere in the distance, the clock chimed midnight.

They started slowly walking towards the Tonks' house. Their laughter had mellowed but they were still giddy, which led to mutual declarations of affection and promises of everlasting friendship. It would have made for excellent blackmail material, only it was unlikely either of them would remember much of what had been said.

That was where the night should have ended, and it would have, had Sirius not decided to take a shortcut through some less respectable parts of town.

They heard a buzzing noise and a flash of light from one of the side roads. Suddenly alert, they both went to check it out. But there were no wizards, dark or otherwise. A few muggles were standing in front of an opened garage door, one of them wearing a strange metal head-cover and holding some sort of muggle tool.

Remus, satisfied that this was none of their business, tried to steer Sirius away from there and back home. But his friend had seen something that had caught his attention.

"Look, Moony, doesn't that look just like my old motorcycle?" he said none too quietly.

Remus now noticed that there was indeed a motorcycle inside the garage, next to a car. But he was not the only one. The muggles had noticed them too.

The ensuing fight was quick and dirty. The wizards might have been three sheets to the wind, but they still had magic. After the thugs had been dealt with, they made themselves scarce before someone else saw them.

"Now that's what I call a proper night out," Sirius laughed. "Boozing, brawling, even saving a motorcycle!"

Remus did not manage a reply right away. He had to turn around at the next convenient corner and throw up. The fighting had been too much for his vertigo.

Sirius cackled like a mad hyena.

"I hate you," Remus ground out. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate you."

"Come on, Moony, look at the positive side. If we hadn't been there, they'd have stolen the motorcycle. That's a crime!"

"Yes, Padfoot, theft usually is."

"No, I mean, a motorcycle! That's a crime!"

Remus thought, if Sirius said one more thing, he might murder his only friend.

They finally made it to the house, and went in. Remus first had to convince Sirius that apparating while half-unconscious was not a good idea, that the same applied to slurring the location while flooing, and that no, Andromeda would not kill him if she found him passed out on the couch in the morning, assuming Sirius managed to keep quiet until then so as not to wake her up.

"I need to sit down," Sirius mumbled as soon as they came in, and slid down the wall.

"Remus? Is that you? Teddy's cries woke me up, and I just managed to get him to sleep. I didn't want to wake mum up. But what's going on? How did I get home? How did the war go?"

Remus, frozen to the spot, listened to Nymphadora talking and walking down the stairs, and then she came around the corner.

"Dora," he whispered.

There was a welcoming smile on her face as she spotted him, which suddenly froze on her face. Her eyes widened comically, and she managed a squeaky, "Sirius?" at the sight of her cousin before promptly passing out.

Remus just caught her in time, used to his wife's clumsiness, only to turn around and see Sirius passed out on the floor.

* * *

><p>Somewhere in the country, in a muggle suburban home, a young boy was watching late night comedy with his parents who were once again urging him to go to sleep, when suddenly there was a loud banging of a door upstairs followed by footsteps leading down the stairs.<p>

Before the family could react, another boy ran inside the living room, clad only in his pyjamas, and yelled, "Dennis, we have to get to Hogwarts, they said so on Potterwatch!"

A moment later, he had been tackled from three sides while his family tried to explain in confusing snippets between hysterical giggles what had happened.


End file.
